BijouBlog

I was looking through a 1982 book (yes, that's a while ago) by Dennis Altman called The Homosexualization of America, which discusses the birth and development of a specific “gay culture,” tying it into developments in the 1960s and 1970s such as the women's movement and the marketing of sex in popular culture.

This description of a typical gay neighborhood from that period really got me thinking, especially from a twenty-first century perspective: 

“Such areas are marked by a certain sameness: they seem at first to be populated almost entirely by men under the age of forty-five, dressed in a uniform and carefully calculated style and dedicated to a hedonistic and high-consumption lifestyle. The main streets of what are often termed the ghettos—Christopher Street and Columbus Avenue in New York, North Wells in Chicago, Castro and Polk in San Francisco, Santa Monica Boulevard in Los Angeles—are lined with shops selling high-camp postcards, coffee pots, pillowcases, T-shirts, and even food (in the ice cream parlors and “Erotic Bakeries”), with dim noisy, and smoke-filled bars, and with the new-style gay restaurants, full of potted palms, with large front windows and health-food menus.” 

Now, specifically from a Chicago context, North Wells is no longer a gay area (and hasn't been for some time), and Boystown on Halsted Street, though it does conform to some of the description above, seems to be watering down its wild gay nightlife image. Both areas have been solidly gentrified (think strollers, tourists, and sports bars) for some time now. In fact, many gays, having been priced out of these areas, have moved north to less expensive areas like Rogers Park, or, in the wake of increased social approval, moved to the suburbs where many of the jobs have gone and to raise their own families. 
 

But what gets me thinking even more deeply (after laughing at the visual in the quote above of “potted palms”) is the queston of whether physical geography really does matter anymore when we are thinking of a gay neighborhood or even a gay culture.

After all, it's obvious that connections via the Internet and social media can easily transcend physical limitations and socioeconomic boundaries. A gay guy living on a farm in a “red state” area might of course want to visit a gay-friendly urban area in a “blue state,” but if he's got Internet connectivity, he wouldn't feel as isolated. And urban gays are at at point now, where instead of hanging out at bars or cruising bathrooms, they can hook up instantaneously via Grindr. The “hedonism” Altman observed can end up becoming “virtual” rather than real! 

It's ironic though, as members of the LGBT community are trying to jump through (and quite successfully) one of the last social hurdles in their journey toward full acceptance as equal citizens, same-sex marriage, that face-to-face interaction seems to be an option, not a necessity. As what were once gay ghettos disappear, I do wonder if the very real and nitty-gritty sense of community which gave birth to Stonewall and banded together to confront the decimation of the AIDS crisis will disappear as well. 
 

Thirty years ago … 

January 6, 1984 

Having served barely five years for the murders of George Moscone and Harvey Milk, Dan White is paroled from prison. His release prompts protest rallies in both San Francisco and Los Angeles. “Yesterday was the last day Dan White could be assured he'd live through the whole day,” says one protester, pointedly eating a [Hostess] Twinkie before several thousand demonstrators in San Francisco. “I don't call for violence, but who knows, maybe one of us someday will be a little depressed, maybe off our diets, and who knows what may happen.” 

Having been ordered by his parole board to stay away from San Francisco, White settles in Southern California. 
 

Oh, those Hostess Twinkies! 

Pretty much everyone knows about Dan White's infamous Hostess Twinkies defense. And now that there the U.S. Post Office is releasing a stamp commemorating Harvey Milk, the outrage about the above really erupts. ) 

It's so horrible, White's act of violence and his attempt to justify it, that the only psychosocial defense mechanism is to laugh and make jokes. Like we do, and continue to do, about the bathroom and what goes on in there. (I would call Dan White one of the words we use to refer to something we do in the toilet, but I will control myself.) 

But the word, brand name, and food I am most fascinated with here is Hostess Twinkie. Note I always preface that word with Hostess. Why? Because that is the real, true, authentic brand. 

Remember when the Hostess plant closed? And they were no longer on the shelves? I was afraid of violence occurring not because of access to them, as Dan White claimed, but because they weren't there. 

Knock-off brands like Cloud Cakes (not spongy enough) didn't cut it. The original Hostess Twinkies are back now, with a different manufacturer. 
 

My question is, though: why did a certain type of younger male person come to be called that name, without the “ie?” Does the yellow color, vaguely phallic shape, and the cream filling evoke innocence but also hotness? 

That whole youthful look really took off in the 1960s gay magazines. Then Toby Ross and some of the other early gay porn filmmakers actually made the look iconic and connected it with complex social issues of coming out and sexual identity. 
 

And the look keeps transmuting into boy bands and the Jonas Brothers and the now infamous Bieber and all that tweeny stuff. Yes, they're back now, with different image manufacturers. 

Of course, some (not all) of those younger males I might associate more with Hostess Ding-Dongs (not the shape, but the meaning of the word ding-dong). 

The youngman or “Hostess Twinkie” is beautiful, but also dangerous perhaps because it straddles the boundaries between childhood innocence and adult experience.

Donatello's David is perfectly beautiful, but he holds the head of the older, more mature Goliath. Arrogantly and triumphantly. 

                                                         I've always preferred Ho-Hos. 

No, I didn't end up buying toys at the Dollar Store because of the Great Recession (but that might be a good idea, given the prices for some gear and toys these days). In fact, I always wanted to add to the treasure trove of toys I inherited, and a longtime fan of the dollar store anyway, I just gravitate to kitchen items like spatulas which prove wonderfully stimulating (and painful) to cock and ball and tit torture pain pigs. 

But it also takes some imagination to figure out which items from the kitchen items aisle to use to such sick, perverted ends. Yeah! 

Here are a few of my favorites (with photos): 

A spatula on the tits and cock, or on the ass, can eventually produce that lovely red color. 
 

A dollar tree plastic cutting board can be a painful paddle. I tried it on someone … ouch! 

These plastic tongs make great nipple torture implements; they can also grab and squeeze and rub against a hard cock. O how exquisite! 
 

This broom whisk makes an excellent abrasive effect on an already sensitive tits and cock. 
 

And now … I just picked this up the other day, a cheap version of those “grabbers” advertised for elderly people who can't reach items. Imagine just sitting there nonchalantly, smoking a cigar, and using these pincers on a hard, moist slavecock … 

Got you own dollar store kink ideas? Pass 'em on, and don't forget to check out our selection of leather/fetish titles.

Recently posted on craigslist, missed connections: 

Thursday night it was the backyard at Manhandler. You were sucking guys off with your shirt off. You smoked a lot. That's nasty by the way. You seemed to be in my proximity or in my face the whole time I was there. You were inside fucking with your tired little cell phone (probably seeking even more cum from the web) and I got a good look at your face in the light. No wonder you lurk around dark sex venues. You are at least 55, maybe 60, wrinkled, fugly, and that Sean Hayes hairstyle has GOT to go. Please, do us all a favor, and take the summer off from sex. Don't come to water sports parties or bear naked or anything else. Stay home, or whatever the fuck. And the next time you try to elbow your way into the middle of my sex with someone, I'm going to give you a swift kick into your dried up decayed little balls. You know who you are, the one who looks like Jack from Will and Grace, and wears that ridiculous half-lopsided little harness thing sometimes. Go pickle yourself, hon. 
 

Reply to the above: OMG I know exactly who you're describing. He is everywhere!!!! And so rude and will try to horn in on your action. He needs to stay home for about 20 years until sex no longer matters lol. 

I am damn mad. I understand the poster's need to vent on one level, but I actually felt sorry for the person this individual was complaining about. 

I wasn't surprised by the poster's crass materialism (”tired little cellphone”) and of course, obviously, the insults about the person's age and physical appearance. Such unabated viciousness seems to be common these days in a culture of narcissism and entitlement. 

And let's face it: these have always been problems with ageism in the gay community, as well as the rampant discrimination against those who don't possess an ideally perfect youthful body. Even in vintage Hollywood, an actress over 35 was over the hill. 

And the prejudice against age and those who don't match up to certain physical standards has escalated in a world where sex is available on a phone app, bodies can be photoshopped, and Kim Kardashian is a role model. 
 

Regarding the reason for the vent, I do understand the etiquette about not “horning” in on public sex scenes, but rather than posting something so hurtful anonymously (the coward's way out), how about speaking kindly to the person and perhaps explaining the etiquette, for a start? 

(But then, in the middle of a circle jerk, counseling might not come to mind.)

As I said above, I feel deeply sorry for this person who was the target of such vitriol. Loneliness … sexual addiction … who knows what drives this person to behave this way? I think his fate is the fate of so many unattached older gay men, many of whom don't know how to develop relationships (or, even more sadly, they could be lonely survivors of the AIDS epidemic of the eighties) because their only exposure to gay life was “dark sex venues,” which before today's environment of acceptance, were often the only places a gay person could connect? 
 

You are sitting with your family at Easter, watching The Ten Commandments. You will notice that it's so very G-rated, so very Hollywood semi-Bible-based Inspirational. There is no question that Mother Angelica and Pat Robertson would heartily endorse this movie.