“All stereotypes turn out to be true. This is a horrifying thing about life. All those things you fought against as a youth: you begin to realize they’re stereotypes because they’re true.”

– David Cronenberg

As much as I hate it, I give:

I am a stereotype.

Yes, I have the Viking blood in me, and that carries with it all the leaden, chilly personality attributes you’d expect.

I have zero mid-range in my emotional spectrum, so I’m either white hot or ice cold about everything. I constantly ruminate about the meaning(less) of life, and ponder how I’ll die, hopefully on a battlefield torn apart by the dogs of war or self-slain by my own hand when the Huns break through the gate and amass to violate me. I can cry stoically and majestically on cue. I sleep very little, and lightly at that. My ear is automatically tuned to female Scandinavian singers with that gorgeous lilt to their voices that makes them sound like they’re about to burst into tears. When I first beheld Max von Sydow’s grave, sorrowful visage in The Seventh Seal, I thought Wow, I finally know true love. I’m forever in a state of feeling overheated, and could happily sleep in a snow bank like a Newfoundland.

I’m working on accepting all that.

Yes, the Nordic disposition may be a heavy load to bear, but the affect — that sturdy, broad look of the body and noble, well-formed cast of the face — is, I must admit, nice compensation. I lucked out genetically with a natural, easily-maintainable musculature, cool blue eyes, full lips, and baby smooth skin that I never tan because I loathe the sun. A former boyfriend of mine used to playfully handle my wrists and ankles and muse “You have good, thick bones, my fair-haired warrior.” Sure, I get envious of dusky Hungarians and babe-like Italians with facial hair and deep, dark eyes, but at the end of the day, I’m surprisingly OK with being a human icicle.

We Norsemen bring our own charmera to the table. (read the full article)

Completely. Not. Gay.

Crotch Watchers. Not the most romantic of titles, but what do you expect from raw, pre-condom gay porn like this golden oldie from Falcon Studios.

We’re featuring this particular scene in the Inner Circle right now. And, boy oh boy, is this one perfect moment from the days of disco porn — you know, the days when porn stars usually had single ‘stage’ names: Phillip and Michael are having a friendly chat on a park bench when mega-ripped stud machine Brian Dexter comes on strong. Most likely someone mentions smoking a joint and then the three horndogs head back to someone’s pad for some raunchy action. It’s an equal opportunity fuck, as each guy takes a turn on the other — making sure no asshole is left unattended. We like this copy from the video box: “The voracious men take every minute to give a helping of each sex starved hole until all pile exhaustedly on top of each other.” Ahhhhhhh, free love. Join us now for your own private showing.

Class: you don’t need money, titles, or status symbols to have it, but — but — it’s either in you or it’s not. Some men move through life with a poised, quiet, dignified stoicism that’s magnetic in its gravity. Other guys, well… their big contribution amounts to throwing it around town like paperboys.

There’s countless epithets you can hurl at a woman’s easy virtue, and society tends to bifurcate the female identity into a virgin/whore mirror image, yet I found myself struggling to come up with derogatory terms to classify a less-than-courtly man in my title. We wouldn’t even have gay porn if it weren’t for a certain type of man with boundary issues who says “A daisy chain on top of a bar?! Where to I sign!?” with nary a reservation, and some men are just born with the perfect hustler mentality that allows them to take risks the rest of us would balk at. As bad as the cliche is, I imagine deep down that most of us crave a hot piece who’s a dreamy angel in the kitchen and a heat-seeking whore in the hay. (read the full article)

I don’t have guilty pleasures.

If you love something — be it purebred or mongrel — it’s worth loving, and there’s no shame in that.

If I could go through the flat-screen looking glass and become part of the narrative world therein, then certainly I’d be the fourth and lone male member of The Carrie Nations in Beyond The Valley of The Dolls, engage in a threeway on a bed full of money with John Phillip Law and Marisa Mell in Danger: Diabolik, or be in a red loincloth and thigh-highs chanting “The Penis Is Evil!” in Zardoz.

Still, if I ever was truly given the chance to emigrate from this mortal coil into Movie Land, I’d seriously contemplate taking the plunge into the early ’80s schlock opus known as Hercules. Not just for the spectacle. Not just for the awesome production design. Not just for the killer robots.

For the incredible sex god called Lou Ferrigno. (read the full article)

There’s not a lot of buildup to this scene. Just two naked men deeply in love, and deep up each other’s asses! Carlo Masi has a fantastic time warming up Arthur Gordon for some deep penetration. Carlo pays special attention to Arthur’s huge uncut meat before Arthur begs to be, uhm, taken higher! Watch as Arthur squats over Carlo’s lips and dips down to let Carlo Masi lick his balls! Wow, you wanna swoon. And when Carlo is done playing around, he rides Arthur Gordon’s tight muscular ass like Jesus is waiting on the other side of orgasm! Woo hoo. Catch it all now over at Colt’s famous gay porn studios!

Because Republican sex farces just keep coming (and coming) — we knew it was time to rummage through the archives and repost Senior Editor John Calendo’s informative guide originally published in 2007 as a Nightcharm public service offering.

After reading these suggestions, Nightcharm encourages you to contact your Congressman directly and voice your concerns. (For a more speedy response you might try writing him directly via Craigslist or Grindr.)

In the wake of the next gay Republican sex scandal, your child will have many questions. They will hear things at school and from the television that will trouble them. You can save them a lot of confusion if you speak to them now during this brief respite between arrests and indiscretions.

Sit your child down in a safe and non-threatening space — a beautiful hillside gold with autumn leaves will do — and then in a calm, reassuring voice touch on the following points:

1. When Two Men Fall in Love …

When two men fall in love, little Johnny or Jane, they sometimes meet in men’s rooms and, entering the last two stalls at the farthest end of the lavatory so they won’t bother anyone or be bothered, they enjoy the warmth of each other’s company.

When one of these men is not really in love but is a policemen whose job it is to prevent the sharing of warmth and good feeling between two men, then the other man is arrested. This is called entrapment, and though it has questionable legality, they do this in places run by our friends the Republicans.

Now you’re wondering why Republicans who love the Constitution so much would want to do something not quite in keeping with the Bill of Rights. Republicans, you see, hate taxes. They hate taxes so much that they have no money to pay the Fireman and the Policeman and the Mailman. So they entrap people and say they will put their names in the newspaper unless the people pay them money. And those fees and fines go to run the city and light the streetlamps and fix the roads.

And that’s why Dad can afford to send you to a nice school and pay the doctor out of his own pocket and still drive an SUV and run the computer all night when he downloads his pictures. It’s all good, little one. The two men who fall in love in the bathroom are part of God’s plan because God loves all the children and wants the mail to be delivered.

2. What is a Gay Republican, Daddy?

Gay Republicans are one of the strangest mysteries in the universe, little Johnny, lovely Jane. And scientists are not quite sure why they exist.

You know that comedian that Daddy likes, Bill Maher, he was on that talk show with the funny-looking guy in the suspenders. And the funny-looking guy — Larry King — was surprised to hear that Ken Mehlman was secretly gay because Ken Mehlman was one of these big Republican Committee people in charge of getting other Republicans elected and helping to scare voters about gay men sharing warmth and good feelings with each other in a civil marriage and not just in bathrooms. And at first Larry didn’t believe it and he asked Bill how that could be, a Republican being a gay man, and ol’ Bill shot right back : “Because Larry, hating yourself is the greatest love of all.” That’s the closest to a scientific theory I ever heard, Sunshine. (read the full article)

This week the Inner Circle continues showing more of Paul Morris‘ latest oral extravaganza: Bone Head.

If you’re a fan of high-octane-inspired cocksucking — especially the wet, sloppy, drooly, gaggy kind that involves: Guys in gloryholes, guys in suits, guys in skull caps, guys tattooed, guys that are monster hung. Then you’re gonna love this latest from Treasure Island.

Of the opening scene, featured this week in the Circle, Paul writes: “I kick off Bone Head with an extra heavy-duty punch: Michael is a true (and very intense) top who knows that his cock should get exactly what it wants. And Joey is one of those fine cocksuckers (we’ve all met them on occasion) who is married-with-kids, but who learned early on that he needs to suck dick. I’m guessing this encounter might be called downright sadistic, but both men were deeply engaged and ultimately got exactly what they wanted.”

Get what you want too. Right now. Join us inside.

Looking for a scintillating, enigmatic man of mystery who’s an avid reader and can make you believe again?

Paul Morgan is not that man.

No, for anyone who’s even remotely acquainted with gay porn, Paul should be immediately recognizable as one of the medium’s all-time cum-dousing sluts.

Yes, slutty is such a…slutty word, but life trajectories can be so untidy and inconvenient that way. Some women are predestined to end up on stripper poles or cowering in Charlie Sheen’s closet, while guys like Paul are basically born for porn. “I was born trash!,” they defy against the very fates themselves. “I don’t gotta learn nuthin’! I’m just gonna do what I wanna!”

“Do what I like!” (read the full article)