The wonderful bicycle messenger above with his top-to-bottom tire-track tattoo is part Disney, part Tom of Finland and all Glen Hanson.

In fact, the 39-year-old illustrator has worked for both Disney and Hanna-Barbera, as well as for Torso, Inches and Honcho magazines!

You might think that a guy who was busy designing characters for Saturday Morning cartoon shows like Beetlejuice and Daria wouldn’t have a moment to spare to launch a second, equally full-time career. But the way Hanson tells it, his mainstream career was what he did to pay the rent, while his homo-hot fantasy studs (such as the high-fashion hunkeroo at right — Hanson’s witty homage to a very famous Dior ad by Rene Gruau) is what he needs to do for his art. (read the full article)

Haven’t you thought about it? Maybe you’ve actually done it: Eyed that young parish priest or that righteous minister and wondered what was going on under his cassock, intuited that there was something about him and that with just the right look, word, touch, you could make that holy man a holy roller!

For most people it’s an idle fantasy. For some, though, the fantasy winds up coming true! And lately, it’s been a nightmare made flesh.

Real priests marching across the nightly news and morning’s headlines — in handcuffs! Men who crossed the line, who did something worse, much worse than breaking their vow of chastity: Men who exploited the vulnerable and fatherless.

But in the realm of fantasy (where everyone is over 18, of course), a lot of us are tweaked by the idea of someone who is holy by day and a hellcat by night. Every now and then a maverick porn video explores this very concept.

Putting religion and sex into a fuck-and-suck tale is risky business, literally. The market is limited. Sex plus church brings up all sorts of awkward feelings. Many of us were raised on religions that declared we were lost, forsaken people. Of course, that’s part of the spark — why we like to see holy men rutting around in the muck of their own bullshit. (read the full article)

Hygiene, we mean.

Naked bongo player, Stetson cologne model and movie-star stud Matthew McConaughey brushes his teeth.

He also wears polkadots, retrieves the Sunday paper, poses for shrub-lurking paparazzi — and fulfills all requirements for Hottest Fuck in Hollywood.

We call him multi-talented! (Now if he would only call us!)

Not one to disappoint his overly imaginative gay fans, our never-shy star appears with a lone dab of toothpaste right below his pecs. Gosh, realism like that can never be faked. We applaud McConaughey’s ongoing commitment to oral hygiene and — The Craft.

The craft of giving us all awesome wood.

With downbeat colors and the lurid Naked City imagery of Depression-era painters like Reginald Marsh, Owen Smith is single-handedly reviving the venacular style of a coarse and brutal America only glimpsed now in the HBO series Carnivale and the shadowy neo-noir film Sin City. His painting “Don’t Ask” (above) is typical of his sweaty, narrative style. Here two male groups are in collision, the grossed-out soldiers clearly overwhelmed by the larger figures of a fleshy gay couple, one of whom looks back with an easy air of desire — but more than that, of challenge. (read the full article)