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Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Who Did It Better? Go West

Who Did It Better?
Go West

Tomorrow marks the beginning of Gay Pride Month, and in anticipation and in honor of this month-long celebration this week's edition of Who Did It Better? takes a look at a true gay anthem as performed by two premiere gay icons.

Go West was written by Jacques Morali, creator of the Village People, Henri Belolo and Victor Willis, who was the lead singer of the popular gay disco group.

The song's title is attributed to the 19th-century quote "Go West, young man," commonly attributed to Horace Greeley. It served as a rallying cry for the colonization of the American West, but also can be interpreted as an invitation to pursue one's own dreams and individuality. The song's melody is reminiscent of Alexander Alexandrov's State Anthem of the Soviet Union.

It first appeared as part of the group's 1979 album of the same name and was released as the second single from the album. It was preceded by the groups' final major hit, In The Navy. The song proved quite popular in the clubs, while also charting worldwide. In the US it managed to reach #45 on Billboard's Hot 100,  and #14 on the Dance Club Songs chart, while in Canada it hit #41 on their Top Singles chart and #13 on their Dance/Urban chart. It fared much better overseas, snagging the #15 slot in the UK and Ireland, #12 in Belgium, and #31 on the Dutch Top 40. 

In 1992, filmmaker/artist Derek Jarman was hosting an AIDS charity event at The Haçienda nightclub in Manchester and asked the Pet Shop Boys to perform. Chris Lowe selected Go West for the occasion. During the performance, Neil Tennant struggled to remember the lyrics, but both fell in love with the idea of releasing the song as a single. Initially, they intended to release it as a one-off single, and they did record it, but that version has never seen the light of day - though remixes and variants of it have appeared on reissues and B-sides.  

Instead, a reworked version of the song appeared on their 1993 album, Very and was released as its second single on September 6, 1993. This version was dramatically altered, as it was influenced by Pachelbel's Canon, the former Soviet anthem, and There Is Nothing Like A Dame from the musical South Pacific.

In addition, Tennant and Lowe wrote a new coda and a bridge for the song, with the lyrics:

"There where the air is free
we'll be what we want to be
Now if we make a stand
we'll find our promised land"

It became a runaway worldwide hit, peaking at #2 on the UK Singles chart and going #1 in Finland, Germany, Ireland and Iceland. It also topped the US Billboard Dance Music/Club Play Singles chart and went to #2 in Austria, Belgium, Sweden, Switzerland and France, #3 in the Netherlands, #4 in Spain, #5 in Denmark and Norway, #10 in Australia, #13 in Italy and New Zealand, and #19 in Canada.

Since then, it's become a staple in the Pet Shop Boys touring shows and been remixed and extended numerous times.
 
And that's the whole story.

Now? On to the competition!

The Song: Go West
The Competitors: Village People vs. Pet Shop Boys

Go West - Village People

Go West - Pet Shop Boys

Village People

On this side of things, I can now fairly evaluate the music of the Village People. At the time they were hot? Not a fan. Their very presence made me uncomfortable - which probably has more to do with my self-inflicted homophobia and fear of being found out than the clever packaging creator Jacques Morali summoned forth to present to the world. 

That initial thump-thump, standard fare, but the horns come on hot and so does lead singer Victor Willis, who - despite his lack of love for the overall project - has some skin in the game here (although it would take a pro-longed lawsuit before he'd see the royalties), and therefore, brings his A-game. I'm not sure why he never pursued a solo career. Other than a one-off single in 1983 for Salsoul Records and a ten-track album released in 2010 - radio silence after he left the group. 

His is a very sexy sound, ripe, rounded and full-bodied. Yes, I realize he's being asked to do nothing more than spout slogans and fulfill the role of head-cheerleader, but he does so with a great deal of energy, drive and commitment. He fills that 40 second intro marvelously. 

As for the backing boys... again, not much is asked of them, but they acquit themselves quite nicely. The mix is incredibly bright and punched-up. What's not to like?

On occasion, Willis sounds like he's either lacking breath support or reaching just below his golden range. 

The string stings in the second verse crack me up. But that was the magic of disco; if you got the strings dramatically correct, people paid attention. 

The hand-claps on the chorus are an inspired bit texture. The group vocals (I guess you can't really consider them back-up) are rather colorless, merely gruff and macho sounding. Everything with this is punch, punch, punch - almost militaristic in scope. 

Willis sounds a bit insane on that chorus, scary even. Maybe he's not the vocalist I'd hoped. "I know you love me..." Goat bleat. I do that when my throat is tired, I think a lot of singers do when surrendering. So, maybe the reason Willis didn't pursue something is because his voice simply wore out. Listen to this and imagine having to sing it over and over. It would be like being a boxer punching a bag; eventually you are going to wear out. In fact, by the time we finish that third verse, I am thinking he's spent. He's employing a lot of vocal techniques used by singers past their prime and on the last rung of their stage worthiness. 

That trumpet is just having the time of it's life. One can't fault the arrangement or the mix. 

That said, it's not like they didn't make a few errors with this release. I never talk about the album art, but I think there's a reason this album sold less than the previous two - and it has nothing to do with people growing tired of disco (that wouldn't happen until the release of their full-length motion picture Can't Stop The Music and the infamous football stadium where an enterprising DJ declared 'disco sucks' and they burned a bunch of disco albums.) No, I think the issue is that people simply weren't aware that they had a new album. If you look at the cover art for their previous release, 1978's Cruisin' featuring the smash hit, Y.M.C.A, you'll notice that from a distance the two are rather identical. The color and the photo shape make them almost undistinguishable from each other. 

And, while many would say the same of the group's musical catalog, that - I don't agree with. Yes, the production work remained the same for their most popular albums, but it was a winning sound, so why mess with that. Maybe people simply grew tired of the 'rah-rah' nature of their songs. 

This? This is a nice bit of work. It's fun and effervescent, if deceptively simple-minded. 

Pet Shop Boys

Creamy, dreamy synths woven in a classical style. That's what's to love about PSB. Their approach to pop music is so intellectual, literary, and sweetly verbose. It screams class and a brand of ivy league elitism - so, sort of the opposite of the everyman vibe of the Village People.

Lush, antiseptically clean and a tad chilly. Fun 'horns', very seamless and musically adept. Interesting ghosty vocal bit before the he-man chorus enters. And then we have Neil. 

So, it would be easy to dismiss Neil's vocals as very fey and extremely nasal, but that would be missing their role in all this. It's his vocals which ground the rest of the trappings to the earth. They're relatable, even as he employs his trademark deadpan charm. His vocals here are treated with quite a bit of fairy dust, but that doesn't cover up the ease with which Neil pops a note or tosses a phrase with a flip of the wrist. 

When his voice is doubled, as on the chorus, it takes on an insect like quality. If I was casting a voice for an animated film featuring a singing mosquito, Mr. Tennant would be my number one choice. 

The chorus gives way to jazzy Las Vegas style horns and a wailing back-up singer. Unnecessary? Perhaps. It does liven things up, of course.

"Together... we will love the beach..." Yes, not exactly working with Chaucer, now are we.

Adore, "I love you... how could I disagree?" So very (pardon the pun) Pet Shop Boys. 

The programmed trapset dates this and strikes me as a bit of a bore these days. But is... as I like to say... of its time.

The production work is stellar. Pristine and airy, providing a very romantic sheen that's easy to lose one's self in. That's another hallmark of the PSB sound - a well of loneliness given voice. 

This is an odd requiem; joyous, celebratory and mournful, all at the same time. 

Obligatory almost-spoken bridge, check.

The drop off - smart move - check.

I remember listening to this in a tiny gay bar in Waterloo, IA. I'd arrived in time for happy hour, but before most. There was a young man across the bar, a child, really... he was listening in earnest; obviously those were his coins in the jukebox - and I thought, "He thinks this is the height of gay sophistication."

And I'm not sure he wasn't wrong.  

Verdict

Well. 

This is a pickle.  A bit of a stew. 

And, since there are no ties here at Who Did It Better?, we all have to choose one or the other.

Really depends on one's mood.

I appreciate both and both are well done, given their respective eras and intent.

But let's face it - sometimes it doesn't pay to overthink these things. (Let that sink in.)

Today? I'm in a lively mood. It's why I go to concerts. I don't mind the occasional missed note, dropped phrase, or vocal crack - it keeps things human. 

So, even with my misgivings regarding Mr. Willis' vocal performance, I'm giving it to Village People. 

PSB is perfection. Note perfect. But perfection comes at a price and, in this case, it all sounds a bit hermetically sealed. And while I appreciate all they brought to this - maybe this was a case where they should have just cut loose and had a bit of fun?

I'll go with the livelier, more simplistic sound of the Village People. Cookie-cutter? Perhaps. 

But who doesn't love a great cookie?

--- ---

And that's enough of me.

Okay, your turn. You know what to do: leave your thoughts and choice in the comments section. I love to hear a differing opinion. 

That's all for now.

Until next time...

Thanks for reading... and listening!

Go West - Pet Shop Boys

Go West - Village People

Tuesday, May 30, 2023

The Labyrinth of Blue Towers: The Disappearance of Jack Arneson - Chapter 20

   

 The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:

The Disappearance of Jack Arneson

(A Sewing Box Mystery)


Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm

Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am

Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am








Chapter 11: Thursday, June 16, 2011, 4:14 pm

Chapter 12: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 8:00 am

Chapter 13: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 9:45 am

Chapter 14: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 10:32 am

Chapter 15: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 10:51 am


Chapter 20: Saturday. June 18. 2011, 6:10 pm

They drove back into town before returning to the hotel. The Shopko, mentioned by Adam, was hidden off Main Street behind the block containing Ben Franklins and the hardware store. It was a shabby affair and appeared to have been built in the early 1970’s. Very little, save some sun-bleached graphics, had been done to update its appearance. Upon entering the store, much to Missy’s dismay, Jeanette grabbed a rickety grocery cart and headed off on her own, mumbling something about ‘shopping-as-therapy’. Missy fought the urge to try and control her aunt, but then, it wasn’t like the shop was so large that her aunt was going to disappear, or anything.

Missy strode off in the opposite direction, to the circular racks that made up the Women’s Department. The bad news: the place was filled with lowest-common-denominator clothing; shapeless slabs of indifferent fabrics which hung sadly on the heavy chrome hangers. The good news: plenty of items in Missy’s size. She searched the area around her. Either there were no petite women in St. Petersburg, and therefore no Petite Section at this Shopko, or the section was so small that it didn’t justify its own signage.

Missy selected two cotton-blend blouses, one melon-colored and the other, pale green. They offered just enough texture and design elements to render them wearable and appealing. The jeans she found were a brand she had never heard of, but the cut was good, and they sure beat what she had bought at Rae-Lynn’s shop. She headed to the checkout lane, paid with a credit card, and then padded over to the tiny eating area to the left of the registers, where she ordered a cherry coke which she sat and drank while waiting for her aunt.

Twenty minutes later, Jeanette rolled through the checkout with a cart loaded with boxes of snack cakes, crackers, chips, sparkling water, a 20 lb. bag of dog food, a huge pack of post-it notes, and an armful of clothing. It was all Missy could do from running up to her and asking exactly where she thought all of that stuff was going to fit in the car. But she was tired. And kind of hungry. Why hadn’t Peter called and invited her out to eat? Then she remembered that her cell phone didn’t work in St. Petersburg anyway, and also had she really been so bold as to give him that number? She couldn’t remember. Her mind a jumble, the whole day just sort of crashed in on her.

She was torn. Should they head back to the hotel and hunker down, satisfying their hunger with junk food, or succumb to the charms of the brilliantly colored photos of cardboard pizza and unctuous looking, sweaty hotdogs right there at Shopko, or attempt to find a decent place eat?

They ended up at the Country Kitchen, right next to the hotel. It suited Missy just fine.

There was something pleasantly reassuring about the familiar color scheme and the standard menu, complete with artful graphics and the occasional photo of  the food. While breakfast sounded like a good idea and a salad would definitely be a good idea, it was the heavier fare that was garnering much of Missy’s attention. She needed a nap and was certain that the comfort food she was about to ingest would help her find her way to dreamland in no time. The country-fried steak looked as welcoming as a warm bath. She wrestled with thoughts of pot roast and meatloaf, before finally settling on the Crispy Orange Asian Salad. She paused to consider what a ‘crispy orange’ might be like, but actually knew exactly what she would be getting: a salad, in name only - the sweet and sour sauce, along with crunchy chow mien noodles and deep-fried chicken fingers rendering any and all dietary benefits moot. She was okay with that. It came with flat bread. She could live with that, too.

The waitress, obviously a student from the local college, was sweet, pretty, and terribly young. Jeanette tortured her with questions about the food which the poor kid was simply unable to answer. When her aunt began to get a bit belligerent about it, Missy stabbed her under the table with the toe of her shoe. Jeanette took the hint and ordered the chicken fried steak dinner. Missy felt a stab of envy course through her calorie-deprived self.

After the waitress left, the two women stared at each other. The bags under their eyes told the other exactly how tired they were - well, that and that neither was up to addressing the issue of the stolen children’s book. In fact, neither one of them had taken a second look at the book or mentioned it since it disappeared into the nether regions of Jeanette’s gargantuan purse.

Missy sipped from the glass of 'water with lemon’ she’d ordered. She’d discarded the straw because she disliked sucking liquid through a plastic tube. She imagined the toxic chemicals the straw was made of somehow would taint the purity of the water on its way to her lips. Instead, she drank directly from the glass, enjoying the feeling of the cold, slightly tart liquid rushing into her mouth. It felt cleansing and temporarily counteracted the dull ache of exhaustion that seemed to permeate her leaden body.

Jeanette stared forlornly at her niece, her bottom lip protruding like a small, petulant child’s. So tired were they, they failed to notice Sheriff Muntz as he pulled into the parking lot. Entering the restaurant, he wasted little time ambling directly over to the booth occupied by the two women.

“Evening, ladies. Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for answer and slid in next to Jeanette, who looked like she was about to bark at him, but then thought better of it. The waitress trotted over and took the Sherrif's order He must have eaten there often, because he didn’t bother to look at a menu and she didn’t ask any questions.

After ordering, he turned his attention back to Missy. “New outfit, huh? I like that blouse on, you. Good color. Shopko, $16.99, am I right? It’s got a nice cut to it.”

Missy threw a sideways glance in her aunt’s direction before answering, “Yup.” Her mind raced. Why would the Sheriff know the price of a women’s blouse at the local Shopko? But then, maybe he’d recently been shopping for his wife, for a gift or something. She shook her head. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger.

“They got good jeans there,” he added. “Relaxed fit.” Missy wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d blushed a bit after he said that last bit. Before she could form a question worth asking, the Sheriff cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, how you liking St. Petersburg? Quite a place isn’t it?” Again, he didn’t wait for an answer. Obviously quaint conversation was not his real agenda “I hear you’ve been running all over town, shopping at Bainbridges and the Shopko Even paying a visit to B&T Bread. You get the tour? Folks really seem to like those free samples they offer at the end.”

There was something malevolent about his tone, and Missy suddenly found herself on guard. She was not in a mood to be interrogated. She was also not in the mood to be intimidated, though she was indeed exactly that. Sheriff Muntz struck her as a tad menacing, so she was not sure how to respond. On the other hand, it didn’t throw Jeanette for a moment. She adopted her ’Hard Momma’ persona and immediately went toe to toe with the law man.

“Look, Sheriff, we’ve both had quite a day, what with Abe Longren being murdered while we were sitting in the next room and all. So, if you’ve got something you want to say to us, just spit it out and save us all our appetites.”

Sherriff Muntz cocked his head back and gave Jeanette a bemused look. Apparently he didn’t mind it when someone stood their ground. When he spoke, there was a gentle laugh to the undercarriage of his voice. “No need to be so formal. You can call me Paul. Would that be okay with you, Jeanette?

Missy’s aunt eyed him guardedly. “Okay, Paul,” she stressed his name with a pop of her eyes, “Let’s dispense with the formalities. Fact is. Missy and I are tired And since we’re not under arrest and have committed no crime, we can come and go as we please and talk to whomever we want.” The Sheriff was about to interrupt when Jeanette held up her hand to stop him “And, just so you know, we haven’t said one word to anyone that would contradict your little story about Mr. Longren committing suicide.” This last word was framed in air quotes by Jeanette using the standard two fingered gesture.

“I appreciate that, I really do. There’s a reason for doing that, but I am not at liberty to discuss it at this time.” His tone was curt and professional.

Jeanette continued, “Yeah, we get it, law enforcement, legal stuff, and all that, but it would have been nice to have been given a head’s up” The waitress brought Paul a cup of coffee and the table went silent. All parties stared at their beverages until the young woman was a safe distance away.

It was Paul who broke the silence. “Now why would I do that? You two have no business involved in this investigation at all. And therefore, no need to go wandering all over town talking to people like Kathleen Tollefson. Oh, yeah, you didn’t know I knew about that, huh? Need I remind you, you’re just a couple of witnesses.”

Missy was more than just a little bit concerned about all that Sheriff Paul seemed to know about her and Jeanette’s coming and goings. Who was talking? Were they being followed? Jeanette, on the other hand, seemed to take it as a challenge.

“Really?” Jeanette was now full steam ahead, “Well, I think it’s time we clued you in on exactly what brought us to St. Petersburg in the first place.”

The Sheriff s face went stone cold. “Ah, so you haven’t been exactly honest with me, have you? Okay,” he said with a resigned shrug, “let’s hear it.”

Missy bit her tongue. She wanted to protest. She wasn’t sure that now was the time to show their hand. Fortunately, she didn’t have to say anything, because the massive radio on Paul’s gun belt crackled to life. “Paul?” Missy recognized it as the voice of the female dispatcher they’d dealt with earlier. The Sheriff, who seemed really annoyed at the prospect of his dinner being interrupted, angled his elbow back awkwardly so he could push a button on the top of radio without removing it from his belt “Yeah, Shelia? What you got?

“We got a situation over at the Monastery Possible 187. I don’t have a lot of the details, but you better get over there, pronto.”

Paul was on his feet in a flash. He ripped the radio from his belt, spitting fire into the receiver, “Are you fucking kidding me? What in the sam hell is going on around here?” He began pacing back and forth “Yes. yes, tell ‘em I’ll be right there And tell them not to touch a damn thing. You hear me!” He jammed the radio back onto his belt and began to walk away from the table, before doing a one-eighty and placing both his hands flat on the end of the table. Looking from woman to woman he hissed, “You two! You eat your meals, head back the hotel, and stay put. Not a word to anyone. No more shopping, no more chatting up folks. Now do as I say or your pretty little butts will be sitting a jail cell. Got it?” He then stood erect, smiled and, with a chivalrous nod of his head, added, “Enjoy your meals.” As he exited, he called out to the waitress. “Rita! Put their food on the department’s tab.” And with that, he jumped into his squad car, and took off, heading west, lights flashing, sirens blaring.

The food arrived. It looked wonderful. Missy stared at her salad, stealing furtive glances at Jeanette. She knew exactly what was going on in her aunt’s head. She decided to cut her off at the pass. “No.”

Jeanette looked up, adopting an air of innocence, “What?”

Missy pointed her fork at Jeanette, jabbing it in her direction for emphasis as she spoke. “This is what we are going to do. We are going to do exactly what the Sheriff said to do. We are going to eat our food, go back to the hotel, and go to bed. What we are not going to do is follow Sheriff Paul out to the Monastery to find out what is going on.”

Jeanette resumed cutting up her food. Without looking at Missy she quietly asked, “Aren’t you just the least bit curious?”

Missy placed her palms on either side of her plate. Apparently she was going to have to play the part of the adult now. “No. What I am is hungry. What I am is tired. We will have to wait and learn the details about what happened just like everybody else. Now, eat your food!”

Fortunately, that was not something you had to tell Jeanette twice She dug into that deep- fried steak smothered in pepper gravy like someone who hadn’t eaten in days. In fact. Missy noted, she seemed to be eating a little too quickly. “You know, you might as well slow down, because I have no intention of going anywhere, but back to the hotel and to bed.”

Jeanette stopped eating and let out an exasperated sigh. She then changed tact, “You’re welcome to do as you please, Missy. I am perfectly capable of finding a way out to the Monastery all by myself.”

“You’re not driving my car.”

The two chewed in silence for a bit.

“I don’t intend to drive your car.”

“Then how do you plan on getting out to the Monastery?

More sulky silence.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out myself. Pass me the salt, please.”

Missy felt like she was arguing with an ill-tempered teen. Or her mother, Dorie. “You don’t need more salt. That food is salty enough.” Jeanette grimaced and Missy continued, “And I’m not going to allow you to go out to the Monastery by yourself. You’ll get in trouble. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

Jeanette’s eyes popped. “Excuse me?” Missy paused. She’d struck a nerve. Jeanette’s tone was low and just a tad menacing, “Are trying to tell me what I can and cannot do?

Having once been a somewhat sullen teenager herself, Missy knew, now, that was exactly what she was dealing with. Maybe Jeanette was more like her mother than she’d thought. “No. You can do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you get in trouble.” With that she stabbed her fork into her salad and jammed an oversized biteful into her mouth Jeanette attempted a comeback, but Missy had had enough. “Eh! Not another word. Eat!”

The two finished their meals in silence, left a nice tip for the waitress, and drove back to their hotel.

Sinking down onto her bed, Missy felt the day’s troubles fall out of her head and into the pillow. A shower would’ve been nice, but she was just too frigging tired. Her mind wandered to thoughts of going home. She wondered when they would be allowed to leave. Beyond that, she did not care to think.

About anything.

She felt herself sinking deeper into the bed.

A sharp knock on the door woke her. She sat up. What time was it? Was it dark? it seemed dark..

Jeanette sprang to the door, opening it a crack.

It was Peter. “Hey, gals”, he whispered. “Seriously. I think there’s something you gotta see out at the Monastery. You are not going to believe your eyes!”

Missy was about to decline the invitation, when Peter dropped a bombshell.

“It’s Boyd Dean. He’s dead.”

--- ---

Breakdown Dead Ahead - Boz Scaggs

Monday, May 29, 2023

Acquired Tastes XLIII: Gay Pulp Fiction, Part 149 Adam's Gay Readers: Part 6 of 10

Acquired Tastes XLIII
Gay Pulp Fiction, Part 149
Adam's Gay Readers: Part 6 of 10

This week we continue our ten-part series of posts dedicated to Adam's Gay Reader's.

Adam's Gay Reader's were released under the Surey Books banner, and published from 1983-1991. Whether this imprint is related to other Surrey publications remains to be seen.

The books were distributed by Star Distributors, which operated out of a P.O. Box  (P.O. Box 36) at the Canal Street Station in New York City, NY.  

A total of 155 titles were published, all featuring distinctively soft, but gay-erotic illustrations, all in a watercolor-like style.

Described by The Book Merchant Jenkins as:

"One of the many gay erotic pulp novels produced in the mid to late 20th century. These short sexually explicit stories, many of which were formulaic and published in easily recognizable series with graphically illustrated covers and titillating titles each targeting a specific sexual niche, demonstrate the breadth of sexual fantasy, occupation, desire, and deviance of the emerging homosexual culture."

 And... so far, that's all I have learned about this imprint. If you have any info, leave it in the comments section or contact me via blogger.

This week: I found 13 out of 15 covers.

--- ---

Top Man
Author: Autumn Terzian
 1988 
AGR-176

A top man is always good to find... 

Great illustration. Looks like an urban rooftop scene. Fun in the sun - my kind of fun. Bet that on-looker will be joining the action soon, and something tells me he'll be more than welcome! 

I believe there should be an etiquette book written for gay men. We frequently find ourselves in 'social' situations which aren't covered by the likes of Miss Manners. For example: how does one request inclusion when they come upon a scene already in progress? What is the polite and correct way to say 'no'? In a three-way, who is responsible for the lube? Who is responsible for disposing of condoms and the like? 

See? Gay etiquette. It's a thing - fraught with issues which beg questions and need answers!

--- ---

Polar Hump
 Author: Roland Graeme
 1988 
AGR-177

I actually have done it in the snow. Not pleasant. I wouldn't recommend it. Not only do things shrink in the cold, your skin tightens up and the ice crystals in the snow can leave marks. So... now you know. Maybe remain upright?

--- ---

Jerry's First Love V
Author: B.F. Christi
 1988 
AGR-178

This is the final offering of this franchise.  Maybe Jerry 'stayed' in love for a change? He certainly did have a number of 'firsts'. As the young should. I'm not saying more mature folk can't find love, but... as one ages, it gets easier to sort the chaff from the wheat. 

Available as a downloadable PDF or ebook at Hommi Publishing. You may also purchase the entire box set at a greatly-reduced price.

--- ---

 Macho Hombre
Author: William Cozad
 1988 
AGR-179

This author also writes under Bill and Will Cozad. Interesting illustration. Not sure what's going on, but it appears to be an outdoors scene. Take a look at that black magic marker 'editing' which took place. I bet it took place without the illustrator's input. 

That, or someone got awful lazy.

Available as a downloadable PDF or ebook at Hommi Publishing. 

--- ---

 Hot Meat
Author: Peter R. Trax
 1988 
AGR-180

Well, they say you should never eat meat that hasn't been cooked to temperature. So, it would go to reason that a nude beach would be the perfect place to find some healthy options! I'm all for adding more protein to my diet. It makes for happy, healthy boys!

Available as a downloadable PDF or ebook at Hommi Publishing. 

--- ---

 Foreign Parts
Author: Andrew Martin
 1988 
AGR-181

Another fine illustration. Italian beef? That's my guess. No matter... whatever he's serving up, I'm thinking that cadet is more than hungry for. 

When I was in Europe, the only place I enjoyed some European delight was in Amsterdam. Of course, that is also when I picked up a little souvenir which I brought back to the states. So? Travel wisely, my dears. 

--- ---

 Shop Meat
Author: Carl Creamum
 1988 
AGR-182

Love that author's name. 

I take it this has to do with an 'manic' mechanic. I don't know that I've ever met one, though I have had a lot of fun in garages. 

Garage fun is an acquired taste. The weather has to be decent - playing in the cold is not my thing. Hard to give great head if your teeth are chattering. If it's a hot day, perfect. I love working up a sweat and garages tend to hold the heat in. After that? It's a matter of pulling into the driveway and waiting for that door to rise. It's like Mystery Date, with a great reveal. 

Oh, bring a blanket and wet wipes. Most garage floors are not pristine, and most garages do not have running water. 

Available as a downloadable PDF or ebook at Hommi Publishing. 

--- ---

Steroid Madness I
Author: Roland Graeme
 1988 
AGR-183

This is a curious subject for this type of book. I take it this has to do with muscle worship/muscle fetishism? Regular readers of this blog know that muscles are nice, but those with over-developed ones do very little for me. And steroid cases? Hard pass.

For a time, I saw a dude who was on them. I met him back before he felt the need and the sex was awesome. He had so much energy. We were a regular thing for a time. Then, for whatever reason, we stopped hitting it. 

A couple of years later, I spot him on-line and he's good to go. I get to his place and he's all wound up. And a bit pumped up. I asked him what was up and he tells me his doctor has prescribed testosterone. The sex was manic and weirdly brief - which wasn't like him at all. He'd always been very attentive and in the moment - moments which passed wonderfully slow. As I was leaving, he told me I should hit up my doctor and get on it, too. I told him I would look into it... and I did.

What I read about it? Well, it's a trade off, folks. And not the kind of health risk I like to take. Needless to say, I asked my doctor about it and she agreed with my assessment. 

So not for me.

--- ---

 Bunkhouse Buddies
Author: Tony Moore
 1988 
AGR-184

Love me a cowboy. Yee haw! Saddle me up and ride!

What I don't love? 

Smokers. 

Nicotine is a hard stop for me. You enjoy it? Good for you. I do not. 

Even though I smoked for ten years, I tried to quit from almost day one of it. That stuff is expensive and nasty. I had no idea what I was subjecting others to. It's in one's clothes, hair, bedding, furniture. It stains your teeth and robs you of your vitality. It restricts oxygen and blood flow which, guess what? That means your dick doesn't get as hard as it used to after awhile. 

These days? If a smoker approaches me for fun, I walk the other way. I don't want to smell it and I don't want to taste it.

So, if blondie there were to hit on me? I'd say, sorry cowboy... you need to find yourself a different cowpoke!

--- ---

Steroid Madness II
Author: Roland Graeme
 1988 
AGR-185

So, as surprised as I was that this was the subject of a book in this genre, I'm even more so, now that we know there's a sequel. 

Comparing the two covers, I must say - this one appears a tad kinkier. Initially I though he was in a doctor's office, but that barbell would beg to differ. Is this some kind of testing lab? And... exactly what is that man donning the rubber glove about to do? Well... I do hope the dude on all fours has prepared appropriately. That is not an activity one wants to do on the fly.

See? I told you there was a downside to steroids.

--- ---

 Doctor Suck
Author: Peter R. Trax
 1988 
AGR-186

Yay! a pair of denim cut-offs! Some gay tropes simply never go out of style. You can 'daisy duke' me anytime. Not that I can wear them anymore. I think they look great on the young, though. So inappropriate and retro - like the embodiment of a living walking vintage gay porn cream dream.

Car fun? Oh, yes. Sign me up. Sucking of some dude in the front seat of a car? Amateur stuff. Fun, but super easy to do and get away with. Just be prepared for a slight bruise on your chest if there's a stick shift involved - and I'm not talking about the knob poking out of the other dude's 501's. 

Also... for those of you who wish to host in your car? Clean that front seat and including the floor. I do not appreciate you using your car as a fast food garbage can.

--- ---

 Playing Chicken
Author: Mark Andrews
 1988 
AGR-187

Playing chicken? Only if it's role play.  

The real deal? Hard pass. I prefer a body that's been lived in. 

--- ---

Southern Charmer
Author: Jodie Bishop
 1988 
AGR-188

In the eighties, I used to hang out with a real Southern charmer. He had terrible teeth but a killer hick accent. He was a friend of a friend and kind of a cute, thin blondie - not my thing. 

But then, one time, at a dinner party, we found ourselves alone in the laundry room. He dropped his jeans, bent over and whetted my appetite. I fucked him, right there and then, and when it was over? We never spoke of it again. 

Oddly, next dinner party? I got invited back. 

He did not.

--- ---

Pent-up Passion
Author: Tony Moore
 1988 
AGR-189

According to a note on Hommi Publishing's Big Ass List, this is a detective story about a nude dancer who’s beaten up.

I've been with plenty of dancers. Beautiful bodies. But I've never been with an exotic dancer. Nor am I enticed enough to stuff their G-strings with cash. 

I don't know. For me, they fall under the same category as gym bunnies and circuit boys. It's all too pumped up and oily for me. Just not my thing. While I never mind sharing... sometimes there are simply too many fingerprints involved. 

--- ---

Punk Raped Cop
Author: Jeff Kincaid
 1988 
AGR-190

According to a note on Hommi Publishing's Big Ass List, this is an S&M novel.

S&M. 

In a Madonna video? Hot.

In real life? NOT. 

I don't know why, but for me, this is one kink where the reality never lives up to the hype of the fantasy. I love role playing. And I love being a sub to a dom. And on rare occasions, I have enjoyed playing the dom. But... it's a lot of dialogue with movement and props. I gave up theatre a while ago. 

Besides... the lighting is rarely flattering.

Available as a downloadable PDF or ebook at Hommi Publishing. 

--- ---

And that's all for now.

Next week: more great Adam's Gay Readers titles.

Until then... thanks for reading.

Passion - The Flirts
(Moreno J Mix)