NYSocBoy's Beefcake and Bonding

Speaking of showbiz families, Joel McCrea (1905-1990) was a tall, lanky, and muscular, perfect for roles as white-hat cowboys. And he played a lot of them during his 50-year movie career.

But you're probably more interested in his movies with gay subtexts, such as The Silver Cord (1933), where he plays a young doctor with a domineering mother, or Ride the High Country (1962), where he and Randolph Scott play a pair of long-term cowboy partners.

Or at least the ones where he disrobes, such as the European-in-Polynesia romance Bird of Paradise (1932).

Bisexual in real life, he was married to actress Frances Dee from 1933 until his death, but also had male lovers, including Montgomery Clift.

Joel's oldest son Jody (born 1934) was tall and athletic, and a dead ringer for his father. He started out playing cowboys, too.

But he is best known for his comedic roles, playing dopey sidekicks named Deadhead, Bonehead, and Big Lunk in six Frankie and Annette beach movies of the 1960s. He still got to display his bulge in a swimsuit, when he wasn't self-consciously trying to hide it.

Typecast as boneheads, he retired from acting in the early 1970s, and became a rancher in New Mexico.

Of Jody's five children, only Wyatt is interested in show biz. He has appeared in a few tv series, and produced Gen's Guiltless Gourmet (2009). He also manages his grandfather's ranch, a tourist attraction in Thousand Oaks, CA

See also: Beach Movies 1: The Beefcake

On an episode of The Simpsons, the family goes to a review featuring the once-famous:
We are the stars that you thought were dead,
Like Bonnie Franklin and Adrian Zmed.

People who weren't watching television or going to moves during the early 1980s probably thought "I didn't think Adrian Zmed was dead, I never heard of him." But during that brief few years, the sultry black-haired Romanian-American actor -- and his amazingly ripped physique -- was everywhere.

He sang and danced as a John Travolta clone in Grease 2 (1982), also starring Maxwell Caulfield.

He partied with Tom Hanks inBachelor Party (1984).

He bonded with William Shatner in the police drama T.J. Hooker (1982-85).

He hosted Dance Fever
He guest starred on Bosom Buddies, Love Boat, Hotel, Glitter, and Empty Nest.

He appeared in Battle of the Network Stars (a reality series that was really an excuse to get male tv stars into speedos). He didn't win any awards, but he got to hug Scott Baio.

His full-body speedo shots were more than enough to draw the attention of gay fans, but his characters always had a blatant interest in same-sex chums, regardless of whether they got the girl in the end.

In Grease 2, for instance, the plot revolves around an "opposites attract" between greaser Johnny (Zmed) and uptight British newcomer Michael (Maxwell Caulfield).

And, unlike most beefcake stars of the 1980s, he was aware of his gay fans, and actually played to them. He remains a strong gay ally, like his "bosom buddy" Tom Hanks.

By the late 1980s, the Adrian Zmed train had stalled, perhaps overloaded by overexposure. Though he has never stopped acting -- in 2007 he appeared in the soap Passions and in Larry the Cable Guy's Christmas Special -- the era of speedo shots is long gone.

West Hollywood, Summer 1989

You can easily tell whether heterosexual partners have broken up. They begin going to social events alone, and no longer spend the night together. Usually they never see each other again, period.

In gay communities, the boundaries are more fluid.

Romantic partners who have broken up continue to run into each other all the time (there aren't many gay places to hang out, after all). They may still go to social events as a pair. They may still spend the night together.

So the question "Are you still a couple?" comes up often:
1. Should I ask about the other guy?
2. Should I invite them to things together?
3. Should I try to fix him up with someone else?
4. Is he free for me to date?

It's gauche to ask, or tell. You're expected to just know.

My soon-to-be partner Lane met Danny at a gay Passover seder in April 1987. He was an intensely hot Tropy Boy, 19 years old, newly out, with a handsome male-model face, short blond hair, flawless pale skin, a smooth chest, and muscular legs. Jewish, not observant.

[Description of their bedroom activity censored.]

After only three weeks, Danny moved from his parents' house in the San Fernando Valley into Lane's apartment.

Danny was so hot that Lane became the envy of West Hollywood. Suddenly everybody at the Gold Coast, the gym, and the gay synagogue was his bosom buddy, and wanted to "share."

The problem was: Danny was so used to being a Trophy Boy that he didn't do anything, except drink milk right out of the carton and leave dirty dishes piled on the coffee table.

He was ostensibly studying education at Cal State L.A., but he didn't go to class, and got straight D's (how do you get a D in an education class?). Mostly he watched Duck Tales, went to lunch with his Cute Young Thing friends, and spent Lane's money on grooming products and clothes.

Lots of clothes. 55 shirts, 21 pairs of shoes, and 32 belts (he had something of a belt fetish).

The clencher came in May 1989, when Danny failed all of his classes and then cleared out the joint checking account on a Beverly Hills shopping spree. Lane had to dip into his savings account to pay the rent.

He was furious! There was crying. There was yelling.

Danny's wardrobe was thrown, fancy belt by fancy belt, off the balcony.

By the end of the evening, Danny had packed up and moved back in with his parents.

Lane spent two days in his apartment, eating ice cream and listening to sad songs. On the third day he went to the Zone, hoping to pick up a sleazy one-night stand.

He picked up me instead. We were together for the next ten years.

But of course, Lane and Danny didn't cut off all contact. About two weeks after the breakup, Danny came over for dinner and sharing.

[Description of bedroom activity.]

But the change of boyfriends happened so quickly that Lane's friends were clueless. He introduced me around, of course, but they seemed to think that I was just a new friend, or maybe a temporary fling, a mere setback in the Saga of Danny and Lane.

When Lane and I went to the gay synagogue, the usher tried to seat us separately.

His friend saw us at the Greenery, and asked, pointedly, "So, where's Danny?"

I ran into another of his friends at the Different Light Bookstore, and was asked "How are Lane and Danny?"

A full month after we started dating, a party invitation came in the mail, addressed to Lane and Danny.

I was getting upset. "You have to do something about this!" I told Lane. "Let them know that Danny is history, you're with me now."

"They see me with you all the time. They never see me with Danny," Lane said. "What else can I do? Obviously I can't make an announcement!"

I had an idea. Danny was a trophy boy, so hot that no one could believe that Lane would break up with him willingly. But Danny could break up with Lane.

On the night of the party, I drove to the Valley, picked up Danny at his parents' house, and came as his date. Lane came by himself.

Danny and I stood with our arms around each other, flirted, kissed, brought each other drinks, sat together at the dinner table.

Lane said "hello" politely, but otherwise ignored us and sat by himself.

Heads turned. Tongues wagged.

At the end of the evening, Danny and I opted to go cruising at Mugi instead of "sharing" with anyone. Soon Lane joined us, effervescent.

"That was incredible!" he exclaimed. "'How are you holding up?''He wasn't good enough for you!' Trying to fix me up with Cute Young Things! Offers of sympathy sharing. I never had so much fun in my life!"

Finally all of West Hollywood knew that Danny and Lane were no longer a couple.

And when Lane and I appeared together, no one commented on my sudden change in allegiances. Obviously Danny was so hot that I couldn't handle him, so I latched onto Lane as the next best thing.

It's better than being Lane's "new friend" for the next 10 years.

The uncensored post, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Plains, Spring 2016

I'm at the Orthopedic Clinic to see a doctor about my knee injury. I still have Troy as my emergency contact.

"What is he?" the receptionist asks. "Your son, your brother...."

I look around to see if anyone can hear before outing myself with "My ex-boyfriend."

The lady behind me is staring at a cell phone, oblivious.

Behind her is a family:
1. The husband in his 50s, bearded, a little chunky, Anglo. Rather attractive, but with a nasty scowl.
2. The wife, in her 40s, short, black-haired, Hispanic.
3. The son, a teenager with his arm in a sling. Slim, dark-skinned, curly black hair, stunningly handsome.

If he was gay, he would be a Trophy Boy, so hot that guys would compete over him, and his boyfriend would have to fight off predatory cruising.

Obviously hetero -- he's wearing a t-shirt with semi-naked ladies on it. But...he's smiling at me!

I smile back.

I take a seat in the waiting area, fill out my medical history, and glance up every now and then. The lady with the cell phone is at the receptionist's desk. The Trophy Boy is still waiting with his parents. He glances back and smiles.

When I finish, Trophy Boy is at the receptionist's desk. I bring it up, say "Excuse me," and reach out to touch his arm (not the one in the sling). Dad pulls him back protectively.

His form is on the desk: Adam M---I can't read the rest.

I go back to my seat. Trophy Boy tries to sit across from me, but Dad steers him away .

They are called in first.

Will this be one of those glimpses of great beauty that we remember forever, even though we never speak and never touch?

The nurse leads me to an examination room just as Trophy Boy and his Dad are heading toward the x-ray room. His shirt is off. Smooth brown skin, flawless, small nipples, an outtie belly button.

"They got you going through the works," I say brightly.

"Yeah. They think I broke my radial head bone. You have to wait three weeks after the accident to take the x-rays."

A moment later he is whisked away, but I definitely saw him checking out my crotch.

Trophy Boy is gay after all, or at least interested, and stunningly beautiful.

All I have to do is find out who he is, make sure he's of legal age, and draw him away from his overprotective father.

1. I scour all of the friends lists of my Facebook friends, figuring that if he's gay, he must know one of them.

Nope.

2. I look for him in Grindr, Scruff, and Adam4Adam.

Nope.

3. I check the University directory for an Adam M---. Too many names pop up.

4. A sports injury three weeks ago. What sport is played in March? It's too early for baseball, too late for basketball.

Radial head bone -- an elbow injury. Tennis!

5. It's too early for anyone to be playing on an outdoor court, but interscholastic tennis is a possibility. I check the schedules of all of the high schools and colleges in the area.

Bingo! He's Adam Martinez, a senior at East High, on the honor roll, the debate team, and the tennis team.

Senior, of legal age.

6. He's not going to be playing, certainly, but he will be watching the last game of the season.

So will I, after doing some research on the sport.

7. The game isn't well attended -- it's easy to spot Adam in the bleachers, and "accidentally" pass him.

"Hi!" he calls immediately. "I didn't know you were a tennis fan."

"Oh, yeah, big time," I lie.

He scoots over so I can join him. Our legs rub together. He's definitely cruising me!

Tennis games are long and boring, giving us lots of opportunities to chat. Adam is out to his parents. They like his boyfriend, and treat him like family. They have an open relationship like the one Lane and I had in West Hollywood -- both partners have to be there for the bedroom activities.

After the game, Adam invites me to his boyfriend's apartment to "share."

What does the boyfriend of a Trophy Boy look like? Two stunningly handsome twinks in my bed! I'm dying with anticipation.

We drive to one of the big apartment complexes near the campus. Adam slides his key into the lock, pushes open the doorway, and yells "It's me. I brought someone."

"Great, bring him in!" a voice calls.

We walk into the living room. A gay porn movie is playing on tv. And sitting in an easy chair, naked:

"Wait...you're Adam's Dad!"

Adam laughs. "Are you crazy? I mean, I like older guys, but....anyway, Dad's not hot."

"But...at the doctor's office."

"Dad had to work, and Mom and me don't have cars, so Stuart offered to drive us."

"Don't worry, it happens all the time," he says. "Good for keeping our relationship closeted. But there's a big difference between me and Adam's Dad. Want to see what it is?"

The uncensored post, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Have you ever heard of Jimmy Clanton?

I thought I was an expert on teen idols, but I missed this one.

Born in 1938 in Louisiana, he burst onto the charts right after high school, eschewing the usual rock for rhythm & blues. Between 1958 and 1962, he released six albums, and had three hit songs:

"Just a Dream" (1958) isn't heterosexist. It could apply to a boy or a girl:

Just a dream, just a dream
All our plans and our all schemes
How could I think you'd be mine
The lies I'd tell myself each time

"Go, Jimmy, Go" (1959) is heterosexist, however. He brags to his girlfriend about his expertise in sweet-talking, dancing, and kissing, and she responds with an open invitation: "Go, Jimmy, Go!"

"Venus in Blue Jeans" (1962), of course, is about a girl.

She's Venus in blue jeans
Mona Lisa with a ponytail
She's a walking, talking work of art
She's the girl who stole my heart

Jimmy got a lot of exposure in the late 1950s, including beefcake (or at least shirtless) shots in teen magazines and two movies designed to showcase his teen idol appeal:

Go, Jimmy, Go (1959), where he is renamed Jimmy Melody. Chuck Berry, Eddie Cochran, and Ritchie Valens also perform.

Teenage Millionaire (1961) is about the millionaire son of a radio station owner, who goes undercover and woos a girl. Zazu Pitts, the 1930s movie legend who was a lesbian in real life, plays Aunt Theodora.

At least there are poolside scenes.

But Jimmy was a little "un-hip," even for the Kennedy Era, and his star soon faded.

He continued to perform through the 1960s, and later became a disc jockey. He is still in demand for nostalgia concerts.

He looks rather Liberace-like in this recent photo, but there's little evidence that he is gay. He's been married since 1962, and has three daughters, two adopted, one biological.

Or a gay ally: he''s a member of the Lakewood Church in Houston, pastored by "homosexuality is a sin" Joel Osteen.

See also: Paul Anka; Beach Movies

I am a child of the television era; the tv was on from the moment we got home from school until well past bedtime, except during dinner. We watched while playing, doing homework, reading, a constant, pleasant background to our lives.

Radio was trivial: the KSTT Top 40 Hits played every morning as we were getting ready for school, and sometimes late in the evening. It was like an alarm clock. You never deliberately listened.

Until the fall of 1975, my sophomore year in high school, when a friend told me about a late-night radio program, Dr. Demento.

It specialized in parodies and novelty songs.

The first night I listened, the playlist included:

"Dragnet Goes to Kindergarten"
"Pickle in the Middle with the Mustard on Top"
"Marvin's Duckie"
"Chicken Fat"
"They're Coming to Take Me Away"
"The Lumberjack Song"

And "Big Bruce," by Steve Greenberg.

Well at the beauty salon every morning at ten
Big Bruce arrived and kind of tip-toed in
He wore bell bottomed pants and a polka-dot tie
And whenever he spoke, it was just to say 'Hi'

And everyone knew when he swished into town
You could smell his perfume for miles around
He stood six foot five, and weighed 106
With a curl in his hair and a smile on his lips

He dies when his beauty salon catches on fire, and he goes back inside to fetch his purse.

That's what heteros thought gay men were like in 1975.

Many still do. This is Big Gay Al, from Southpark. Grant Stone and Trey Parker still think gay men lisp and swish.

I had no idea that gay men existed in 1975, but I knew all about swishes: boys who believed so strongly that they were girls, that they actually became girls, or rather a monstrous boy-girl hybrid: though male in form, they lisped, minced, swished, carried purses, wore dresses and perfume and make-up, called you "Thweetie," and were usually named Bruce.

Except the swishes I knew were figures of disgust and dread: they waited patiently in schoolyards and back alleys, breathing softly in the shadows, until an unsuspecting boy approached. Then they pounced! All it took was a slim, bejeweled hand placed on your shoulder, or a soft lisping whisper in your ear, and you would change, inevitably, into a swish.

Big Bruce was certainly ridiculed, laughed at, and looked down upon, but he was no threat.

"Big Bruce" was first released by Randy Sparks of the New Christie Minstrels in 1961. He meant it as a parody of "Big Bad John," a Western ballad by Jimmy Dean (the guy who sells sausages)

On the queer music website, Randy Sparks writes: "Most gay men had no problem with laughing at the ditty, but any lesbians in my audiences seemed to immediately take offense, so I was careful where I sang it. I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

I would certainly be yelling "homophobe!" now, but in 1975 it was a pleasant alternative to the horror the swishes usually brought.

The song was very popular in the homophobic 1960s, recorded by several other groups, including The Country Gentlemen (1966), The Faux Pas (1967), Bill Stith (1973), and most recently Bird & MacDonald (1993). Steve Greenberg's version is from 1969.

The October 1975 issue of Playgirl featured several nude photos of model/actor Steve Bond. They quickly became the most famous male nude photos in the world (not counting those of Christopher George.)

Not because he was a man-mountain -- no bodybuilder, he had the tight, pleasantly muscled physique of a New Sensitive Man.

Not because of his size beneath the equator, though he was huge.

Because of the contrast.

The last time anyone had seen Steve Bond, he was fourteen years old, playing Erik in Tarzan and the Jungle Boy (1968), with Mike Henry.

Seven years makes a big difference!

After one or two more child-actor roles, young Schlomo Goldberg went back home to Israel, finished high school, and completed his mandatory military service. Now he was in L.A. again, ready to hit the big time. The nude photos came at a moment of desperation, when he was flat broke

Unfortunately, posing nude was still controversial in 1975, and Steve found it difficult getting the attention of casting directors. During the next decade, he played some street toughs, some sexploitation studs, a Chippendales dancer, and a forest ranger investigating some teen murders (in The Prey, 1984).

Finally, hoping that the nude pictures were long forgotten, he landed one of the defining roles of his career, good old boy Jimmy Lee Holt on General Hospital (1983-87).

No such luck. In 1985, an eagle-eyed editor at Playgirl discovered the old photos, and reprinted them. Steve was devastated. What would happen when the General Hospital producers found out? Would he be fired?

Turns out that nothing happened. Jimmy Lee Holt was too popular to dismiss. The GH producers even commissioned a Speedo poster to show off Steve's assets.

After General Hospital, Steve did another soap (Santa Barbara),and the sci-fi thriller Spacejacked (1997). Not a lot of gay content, but two movies spring to mind:

1. To Die For (1988): the seductive vampire Tom (Steve) gets upset when his ex-boyfriend Vlad (Bryan Hughes) falls for a mortal woman, and plots revenge. Scott Jacoby plays a human who gets involved.

2. Magdalene (1989). Austrian priest Joseph Mohr (Steve) tries to reform a prostitute, and is accused of sexual misconduct. Meanwhile he buddy-bonds with Franz Gruber (Cyrus Elias), and helps him write the Christmas classic "Silent Night."

I guess you don't need a lot of gay content when you already have the most famous endowment in Hollywood.

You can see the nude photos on Tales of West Hollywood.

See also: Bert Convy spends the 1970s nude

Bob Hope (1903-2003) was probably the most famous and beloved entertainer of the 20th century, from the 1940s Road movies with Bing Crosby (Road to Morocco, Road to Singapore) to 30 years as a radio staple to a series of tv specials in the 1950s and 1960s.

He was known for his snide, snarky one-liners -- over 500,000 through his career, contributed by an army of over 100 writers on his payroll. Most commented on current fads, fashions, Hollywood stars, and politics.

From the 1950s:

Eisenhower admitted the budget can't be balanced and McCarthy says the communists are taking over. You don't know what to worry about these days ... whether the country will be overthrown or overdrawn."

From the 1980s:

Everything Reagan does, Gorbachev does him one better. Reagan wears the flag of his country on his lapel. Gorby wears the map of his country on his forehead.

During the 1970s and 1980s, gay activists often complained about the raw homophobia in his jokes, but Hope shrugged them off: "They're threatening to get together and hit me with their purses."

Until July 4th, 1986.

Hope was performing at a dinner to commemorate the hundredth year anniversary of the Statue of Liberty. The aging entertainer told the audience of patriotic Liberty enthusiasts, who paid $1000 apiece to be there ($2000 today):

I just heard that the Statue of Liberty has AIDS. No one knows if she got it from the Mouth of the Hudson or the Staten Island Fairy.

Ronald and Nancy Reagan laughed, but the rest of the audience sat in stunned silence, horrified by the slur against Miss Liberty's sexual habits. The Los Angeles Times said:

Hope's "joke" was worse than obscene. It was abusive and unworthy...It is both sad and shameful that a man who many have considered a national treasure should think it would be funny to besmirch Miss Liberty on her 100th birthday.

Gay activists complained again about the raw homophobia,, and AIDS activists complained about the horrifying misinformation. Hope didn't actually apologize, but he said: "I've known so many people like that over the years, worked with so many. But it's different now. Now they fight back."

Hope continued to make homophobic jokes until 1988, when a reference to "fags" on The Tonight Show prompted GLAAD to demand an apology. Hope agreed to participate in an PSA, which aired only on local gay tv programs:

"I was amazed to discover that many people die each year in anti-gay attacks, and thousands more are left scarred, emotionally and physically. Bigotry has no place in this great nation, and violence has no place in this world."

He was amazed to discover that anti-gay violence exists? Really?

Gay people are not mentioned in the 2015 biography, Hope: Entertainer of the Century.

See also: Bing Crosby

Ricky Nelson was the first teen idol produced by television. He was born in 1940 to show biz parents, band leader Ozzie Nelson and singer Harriet, who played "themselves" on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet on radio. Both Ricky and his brother David began playing themselves in 1952, after the switch to television.

His plotlines were standard Boomer-kid stuff -- paper routes, bullies, homework --until the night of April 10, 1957, when Ricky performed the Fats Domino classic "I'm Walkin'."

Teenagers -- never big fans of the program before -- went wild. Envisioning a whole new market, Ozzie had Ricky sing every week after that. At first he used the pretense of a "talent contest" or "school dance," but then he gave up, put a guitar in Ricky's hands, and let him perform to audiences of rapturous teens.

Ricky stayed on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet until it finally ended in 1962, but his parts became increasingly smaller as his performing career took off. Between 1957 and 1962, he hit the Top 40 charts 30 times, more than any other performer except Elvis and Pat Boone. In the interest of maintaining closeness with his brother, he also performed in "The Flying Nelsons," a trapeze act, as the flier to David's catcher.

Many performers in the 1950s were androgynous or slightly gender-transgressive -- singing itself was coded as a "sissy" activity -- but Ricky was the first teen idol to promote a gender-transgressive image, as soft, shy, introspected, and somewhat dark, as if he had a secret pain. Though he was attracted to women and married multiple times, his primary relationships -- his most fulfilling, intimate relationships -- were with same-sex friends. At the same time, he was rather homophobic.

Teen magazines didn't do a lot of beefcake shots in those days, but that didn't matter. Ricky looked good in chinos, and he could fill out a cowboy outfit.

Ricky tried to rename himself "Rick," but it didn't work -- fans called him Ricky through his life. He was busy through the 1960s and 1970s, writing new songs, experimenting with new genres. "Garden Party" (1972), about Hollywood hypocrisy, became a hit for a new generation.

He died tragically in an airplane crash in 1985.

See also: David and Ricky Nelson

I endured Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas for a year after getting my M.A. in English.

It was actually Aldine, Texas, a far, far, far northern suburb of Houston, 20 miles from the beauty and excitement of the Montrose.

And, if you don't count two trips back to Rock Island and spring break in New Orleans, it was actually only seven and a half months, or 210 days.

209 days too long.

I had a dreary two-room apartment on a dead end street, with an illiterate redneck landlord downstairs and a headbanger neighbor.

Everyone in the rust belt moved to Texas in the early 1980s, which meant that everything was grotesquely crowded, it took an hour to get anywhere in grotesque traffic, and everyone was new at their jobs, so they took forever and made lots of mistakes, which made every chore from banking to going to the gym a daunting enterprise.

Plus, everything was under construction, resulting in constant delays, and more flat tires in nine months than I've had in the 30 years since.

The campus was all ugly concrete slabs and treeless scrub grass.

Everyone was illiterate, surly, and very, very homophobic. Consequently, all gay men were very, very closeted, giving you fake names and fake phone numbers.

There are a few things I remember fondly:
My Italian class.
A visit from Bruce.
Spring break in New Orleans.
Driving away.

And sausages. They grow them BIG in Texas, and the guys were readily available. For hookups, anyway.

Here are 16 Texas toughs, horrors, hookups, and sausages from my 210 days in Hell-fer-Sartain.

September:

1. The Student Who Got Naked in My Class, stripped down to his underwear right in the middle of a lecture on Moby Dick. No one has ever done that in any class since. The most beefcake you see is when they take off their sweater, and their shirt pulls up off their chest.

2. Raymond, a black guy with an interest in astrology (he was a Taurus) and an enormous Mortadella who kept saying "if you relax, it won't hurt."

3. Sayid, his friend. Raymond fixed us up, apparently believing that if I wasn't an anal bottom, I must be an anal top. At the end of the date, Sayid ran into the bedroom, stripped, turned over on his stomach, and squealed "Take me! Take me! Do whatever you want with me!"

4. Hank, a recent graduate of the college, now working in a department store, who claimed to want a relationship, but gave a fake telephone number. He didn't realize that as a faculty member, I had access to all student records. So I looked him up and called.

"Um...um...I don't...I mean," he stammered, trying to figure out how he managed to accidentally write down his real number.

"You said you wanted a relationship. So -- dinner tomorrow night?"

He didn't want dinner.

October:

5. Dan, a Vietnamese immigrant who worked at the mall and chain smoked. During our date, he poured water on a napkin to use as a makeshift ash tray. After the date, I came down with a case of...well, let's just say it wasn't pleasant.

November:

6. Two Brothers and their Dad. I had a date with the 19-year old, but I made out with the 17-year old, and got a sausage sighting of the aroused Dad in bed.

December:

7. Dick, My Old Bully. We reconnected at Christmas, back in Rock Island. Who knew that he was gay? And so buffed? And so well hung?

January:

8. My Most Embarrassing Hookup, when a middle-aged Mormon guy mistook me for a hustler.

9.The Redneck Boy from the trailer court next door worked out with weights, shirtless, in his yard. I never made contact, but it was a pleasant sight.

February:

10. The Professor Who Got Away. I pushed a little too hard, going into detail about the things we had in common. I may have used the term "soul mate." He rain.

11. The Russian Major. I wooed him with my knowledge of Slavic languages, but after the make-out session on his couch, he said "I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm not in the mood to be raped tonight." Raped?

March:

12. The Footballer. This guy goes into ecstasies over me being from the Midwest, asked about farms, milking cows, etc., etc. He asks me to wear a football jersey on our date.

13. The Teenage Hustler of Bourbon Street. The fuzz-headed Cute Young Thing kept following me around, trying to get me to buy him hot dogs, a pizza slice, beer, and Curaçao. I finally agreed to bring him back to my hotel room, where he was too big to go down on adequately, and at the end of the evening he asked for $5.00.

April:

14. The Most Skittish Guy on Earth. He arrives, says "There are too many people around. You didn't tell me you lived so close to other people. What if they saw me coming in? What if they hear us?"

I get annoyed and say "Are we going to do it or what?"

He grabs a chair, puts it on the floor in the bedroom, and says "Go ahead and do it, then."

But then he hears a noise and vanishes before I have a chance to "do it," whatever "it" is.

15.Carl the Cowboy Cop with a Kovbasa+, one of the biggest I've ever seen. But he was immensely tall, which was a turnoff, and extremely anti-religious.

May:

16. The New Age Devotee who kept talking about the Universe, energy, chakras, crystals, and stuff: "The Universe wants you to find the one you're destined to be with."

In the morning, I prepared a New Age breakfast of granola and fresh plums. I tried to hand him the bowl of plums, but he didn't take it, and it shattered all over the floor.

A fitting end to my 210 days in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas.

The uncensored post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

The most famous male nude photos in history:
1. Johnny Crawford's full-frontal nude shot advertising The Naked Ape (1973).
2. Burt Reynolds's nude centerfold in the April 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan

The 36-year old actor specialized in serious dramatic roles, mostly Westerns about surly, downtrodden Native Americans (Navajo Joe, 100 Rifles, Sam Whiskey). He had just finished filming Deliverance (1972), about four big-city businesmen who go camping in rural Appalachia, and encounter slack-jawed, gap-toothed hillbilly savages. He expected it to get him a best-actor Oscar and acclaim as a serious actor.

Then Cosmo editor Helen Gurley Brown approached Paul Newman about doing a nude centerfold. He refused, so she approached Burt.

Burt lay supine on a bearskin rug in a parody of the popular baby photos, grinning mischievously, coyly hiding his sex organs. It was not an erotic photo.

But it was groundbreaking. Nude male photography was still in its infancy -- only a few years ago, it was judged de facto obscene. This was the first time that any man had ever appeared nude in a mainstream publication.

It was a victory for women's liberation. Helen Gurley Brown reminisced: "Men liked to look at women naked. Nobody talked about it, but women liked to look at men naked." A few months later, Douglas Lambert was inspired by the photo to launch Playgirl magazine, featuring pictures of naked men: "It came to me -- that's what women want."

Both of them were disgustingly heterosexist, trying their best to pretend that they were unaware that some men like to look at men naked, too. But men were watching. Burt Reynolds became a gay icon without ever playing a gay character.

The photo made Burt a celebrity, but kept him from being taken seriously as an actor. Deliverance was snubbed at the Oscars, and he spent the 1970s in Southern-Redneck comedies like White Lightning (1973), Hooper (1978), The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (1982), and the Smokey and the Bandit series (1977, 1980, 1983), often with his bff Bert Convy.

It has been recreated by many other celebrities, including Neil Patrick Harris and Mario Lopez.

See also: Bert Convy: Spending the 1970s Nude

Saturnino Herran (1887 to 1918) came to Mexico City in 1905 to study at the National School of Fine Arts. He is most famous for murals that draw on Aztec motifs to display the color, life, and masculine beauty of the native Mexican people.

Our Ancient Gods, begun in 1916 and unfinished at the time of his death, was intended for Mexico City's new Teatro Nacional.

El Flechador (The Archer), 1917, is a languid, androgynous youth pointing a phallic arrow off-stage.

El Quetzal (1917) depicts a muscular, naked youth holding a quetzal, the symbol of Mexican national identity.

La Leyenda de Volcanes (The Legend of Volcanoes) tells the aftermath of a forbidden love: the girl's father disapproves, so he turns her into snow, leaving her boyfriend to grieve.

It sounds like a veiled story of a homoerotic romance, doesn't it?

Herran painted a few semi-nude women, too, and he was married when he died, so any same-sex romances he had were strictly closeted. But he is lauded today as a precursor of the great gay artists of the 20th century, like George Quaintance and Tom of Finland

Plains, Spring 2015

I hate Sunday. It's the dark, dangerous, lonely end of the week.

Maybe it's residual Nazarene guilt.

Maybe it's because there's nothing to do. No theater, restaurants are deserted, gym closes at 6:00, nothing on tv but The Simpsons, which I'm getting tired of after 27 years, and the never-ending homophobic rant of Family Guy.

Maybe it's the memory of Sundays past:
The Filling Station in Fort Lauderdale
The Bondage Club in New York
The Horseman's Club in Amsterdam
The beer busts at the Faultline with tangerine chicken on tv trays after.

I haven't been to the Sunday beer bust at the Faultline for 20 years! Somebody stop me before I start singing "The Way We Were."

Too late.

Can it be that it was all so simple then,

Or has time rewritten every line?

If we had the chance to do it all again,

Tell me, would we?

Out here on the Plains, I've been assuaging my Sunday night sadness in the best way I can think of: with a Sunday Night Special.

Two hookups with guys from dating apps, one at 8:00 pm, the other at 9:00 pm.

Two because 50% of hookups don't actually show up.

If they do, fine. I'm up for two guys on the same night.

But none of this downlow, bi-curious, discrete, "I told my wife I was out buying shoes" nonsense.

They have to be gay and out, or no dice.

Of course, on the Plains, that means they're always in their 20s.

6:00 pm. I go on the hookup apps during dinner, and wait for prospects to approach. It doesn't take long to narrow the field down to two:

1. Mike, a chemistry major with a long, sharp face and an insouciant smile, but a nicely defined, smooth chest and an "innie" belly button.

2. Aaron, a business-entrepreneurial student who is vice-president of the Economics Club. Square face, bright smile, nondescript physique but (according to him) a gigantic Kovbasa+ beneath the belt.

While I'm talking to Aaron, I am approached by Mohammed on a different app: An engineering student from Saudi Arabia, 23 years old, solidly built, with dark smooth skin, but "bi-curious," on the downlow.

"Sorry, I already have someone coming over," I tell him.

"I'm really in the mood," he protests. "Could we do a three-way?"

I don't want to have two strangers in my apartment at once, even with their background information and phone numbers. There are too many opportunities for stealing.

But I haven't been with a Middle Eastern guy for years, and no one from Saudi Arabia.

But he's bi-curious, downlow, probably planning to drop by while his girlfriend is out shopping. That's trouble.

But his photo is hot, and we have a nice conversation about San Francisco.

8:00 pm. Mike doesn't show up. No call, no cancellation, just doesn't show.

"Ok," I tell Mohammed. "We'll do the three-way. Just let me clear it with Aaron."

Aaron has never been with a Middle Eastern guy. "Doesn't Saudi Arabia execute gays?"

"That may be why a lot of Saudis go on 'sex vacations' to Europe or America."

I submit the photos to each other. They're both into it.

I don't notice that it's starting to rain.

8:30 pm. Pouring rain, thunder, lightning.

8:45 pm. The tornado alarm goes off. Aaron cancels: "Sorry, I'll never make it out in this deluge."

It's too late to contact Mohammed. Will he be a no-show? Bi-curious, a three-way, in the rain, a lot to get skittish about.

9:00 pm. Mohammed knocks on the door.

I explain that Aaron cancelled. He doesn't mind.

The bedroom activity and conversation takes about an hour.

I try to get Mohammed to talk about being gay -- or bi-curious -- as a Saudi, with conservative Muslim family and friends, but he is too skittish.

I notice that the rain has stopped.

10:00 pm. I go back on the dating apps.

Aaron appears: "The storm is over. Can I come over now?"

And Mike: "Sorry, a friend dropped by, and I couldn't get rid of him. Can I come over now?"

The uncensored story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

In the movie 28 Days Later (2003), an attractive young man named Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakens from a coma to find himself in a deserted London hospital. Fully nude, he stumbles out onto the street, and discovers that the world has ended. 99% of the population has been transformed into bloodthirsty zombies, who roam the streets, attacking anyone “normal.” Soon Jim teams up with two other survivors, Mark (Noah Huntley) and Selena (Naomie Harris).

You may never have heard of Naomie Harris, but you know that she cannot possibly be a 70-year old lady or a 12-year old girl. You may never have seen a zombie movie, but you know that Jim and Selena cannot possibly end the movie as cordial friends. They must fall in love. And, of course, Mark is doomed.

The first line of Spiderman (2003) has the narrating Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) telling us, “Like all good stories, this story is about [a boy and] a girl.”

In Eagle Eye (2008), a supercomputer forces two strangers to work together on its evil scheme to take over the world. It needs college dropout Jerry (Shia LaBeouf) for complicated plot reasons, but it selects young single mother Rachel (Michelle Monaghan) seemingly at random. Why not a middle-aged woman? Why not a middle-aged man? Because Jerry needs a girl to kiss at fade-out.

The beefcake in these movies doesn't make up for the heterosexism. Whether the movie is serious or frivolous, artistic or hack, good or bad, comedy, tragedy, or drama, it must fade out to a man and a woman in love. Even if the “real” plot is about something else, like being bitten by a radioactive spider or saving the world from zombies, there must be a heterosexual romance.

See also: Two Zombie Movies with Gay Characters; and The Walking Dead: Gay People Unwelcome at the End of the World.

The Disney Channel movie Descendants (2015) follows the unlikely conceit that seven Disney animated fantasies about beset-upon Princesses being saved by Handsome Princes all took place about 20 years ago:

Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Mulan, Sleeping Beauty. Snow White, Aladdin.

Wait -- those are all set in the Middle Ages, and the movies were made 50 years apart. How...

Plus 101 Dalmatians, which is contemporary, and not about a Princess at all.

After the villains are defeated and the kingdoms are restored, the Princes and Princesses marry (except for Snow White, who decides to stay single and become a television reporter).

That's right, a television reporter.

The other kingdoms are all consolidated into the United States of Auradon (U.S.A. see?), ruled by Queen Belle and King Beast.

Wait -- his name was Beast before he was transformed into a beast by an evil curse?

Meanwhile the villains are all banished to the horrible Island of the Lost, where they, too, apparently find life partners.

A year or two later, every Princess and Villainess gets pregnant at the same moment!

A sort of Village of the Damned thing going on? Do the kids all have glowing eyes and telepathic powers?

Fast forward 17 years. Ben (Mitchell Hope, top photo), son of Belle and the Beast, will be inheriting the throne of the U.S.A. soon. He's about to enter his last year at the exclusive Auradon Prep School (think Hogwarts without magic) along with his royal peers:

His girlfriend Audrey (Sarah Jeffrey), son of Sleeping Beauty (real name Princess Aurora) and Prince Phillip

His best buddy Chad Charming (Jedidiah Goodacre, left), son of Cinderella and Prince Charming. Who knew that Charming was the family name?

Plain, mousy Jane (Brenna D'Amico), daughter of the Fairy Godmother, the Headmistress of Auradon Prep. I guess they were running out of princesses.

Lonnie (Diane Doan), daughter of Mulan and Li Shang.

And the science nerd Doug (Zachary Gibson), son of Dopey from Snow White. The Seven Dwarfs were obviously gay. I wonder which one Dopey married?

Prince Ben is a progressive penologist who doesn't think children should be punished for the crimes of their parents, so he arranges for the Villains' descendants to be released from the Isle of the Lost and enrolled at Auradon Prep:

Mal (Dove Cameron), daughter of Malificent (the evil one from the 1959 movie, not the reformed one from Malificent)

Jay (BooBoo Stewart, left), son of Jafar from Aladdin. One wonders what happened to Aladdin and Princess Jasmine.

Evie, daughter of The Evil Queen from Snow White. So her actual given name was Evil Queen? That's almost as bad as Malificent, which means "evil."

Carlos (Cameron Boyce, below), son of Cruella de Ville of 101 Dalmatians. The elderly, post-menopausal lady whose parents decided to name her Cruella? He must be adopted.

They arrive all sneering and suspicious -- wouldn't you be, after a childhood in a Hell Dimension?

But after some classes in Remedial Goodness and buddy bonding through sports and pop music, they find that they prefer the company of high school hunks and babes to that of their snarling, wrist-shaking parents.

The problem is, their parents have given them the job of stealing the famous Magic Wand, so they can regain control over the empire...er, U.S.A.

What will they do?

Do you even need to ask?

This is a bright, flash, colorful mix of Harry Potter and High School Musical, so popular that it led to a 12-episode web sequel, a 23-episode short-form prequel, a novel, and a lot of merchandise.

There are two-hetero-romances, but they are countered by the extensive buddy-bonding between Jay and Carlos, and later Carlos and Chad.

And, of course, a lot of teen beefcake.

See also: Cameron Boyce; Maleficent.

Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, Fall 1984

I'm 23 years old, just graduated from Indiana University with my M.A. in English, with a new job at a state college in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas.

I hate the bugs, the humidity, the rednecks, the country-western music, the hour-long drive to the nearest gay bar.

But I like the men: they grow them BIG in Texas.

I take out an ad in the Montrose Voice, trying to find guys for dating and romance. They charge by the letter, so:

GWM, 23, 6'0, 180, musc, into bks, tv, f/sf, mus, dts only.

Who knew that some of these acronyms are used for fetishes?

After a few rather inappropriate responses, I pay for the extra vowels: into books, television, fantasy/ science fiction, music. Dates only.

A few more inappropriate responses, including a guy who just breathes heavily into the phone, and then Raymond: a medical technician, 32 years old, from Detroit, in Texas five years. Reads science fiction. Favorite authors: Asimov, Heinlein, LeGuin.

Sounds good, but what does he look like? Newspaper ads don't include photos.

Black, tall, slim, bearded, hairy chest, gym-toned, .

I've not much into tall or slim guys, or beards, but I'm definitely into black guys!

We meet at Mother's in the Montrose for "drinks." Raymond is attractive, with a round open face and a disarming smile.

He turns me off by drinking three beers and flirting with the waiter, but this is my first date in Texas, so I can't complain.

He's into astrology. We're Taurus and Scorpio, opposite sides of the zodiac. Explosively passionate in the bedroom.

The rest of the story is too risque for Boomer Beefcake and Bonding. You can read it on Tales of West Hollywood.

People kept telling me, "You have to watch Breaking Bad (2008-2013). It's great! It's fabulous! It's colossal!"

I turned on the first episode, in which Albuquerque chemistry teacher Walter White (Bryan Cranston) finds out that he has lung cancer, and in order to provide for his family, decides to produce methamphetamine. He talks one of his ex-students, a meth dealer named Jesse (Aaron Paul),into being his assistant.

Jesse uses anti-gay slurs.

Click. Why should I watch a homophobic program?

My friends implore me to watch.

But the program is homophobic!

Recently I have been forced to watch The Shield, which was the most homophobic programs ever, dripping with contempt for homos, and with an actual plotline in which a gay guy turns straight due to the power of prayer! So I figured I could handle Breaking Bad.

The homophobic slurs are infrequent after the first episode. I guess the writers figured they had gotten rid of all the gay viewers, and didn't need to bother anymore.

So, what did I find, going incognito into a program exclusively for heterosexuals?

Well, of course, there are no explicitly gay characters. Like most television drama, Breaking Bad is set in a world where gay people are assumed not to exist.

But, wow! Walt and Jesse.

They behave like romantic partners.

They are treated like romantic partners.

They break up, date other people, then reconcile.

Jesse is wooed by a new boyfriend, Mike, and Walt roils with jealousy and tries to win him back.

Each says to a bad guy (well, to someone equally bad), "If you kill him, you'll have to kill me, too."

Even other people notice. When Mike is told "If you kill him, you'll have to kill me too," he says "What is it with you two?"

Even in Season 5, after Walt has betrayed Jesse a dozen times, Jesse still behaves as if he's in love with him.

Jesse says "Why don't you stop pretending that you care about me?"

Walt hugs him. Jesse breaks down and sobs.

Then there are the gay characters, or at least characters who are well-groomed, sophisticated, and expressing no interest in women.

Including big time meth dealer Gustavo Fring (Giancarlo Esposito), who, in a flashback, sees his lover murdered by cartel head Hector Salamanca. He invites guys he likes, such as Jesse, over for dinner and who-knows-what-else at his house.

At one of the drug cartel's gatherings, the entertainment consists of women, who come in and sit on the laps of the men. Not Gustavo, though. He's obviously not interested.

During one of Walt and Jesse's breakups, Gale Boetticher (David Costabile) becomes Walt's new assistant. Well-groomed, sophisticated, no women around, gives Walt a copy of Leaves of Grass, the famous gay-themed classic, with the inscription: "To my star, my perfect silence"

What, exactly, were they up to after hours?

For that matter, few if any of the characters on Breaking Bad exhibit significant

Walt's teenage son Junior (RJ Mitte) has a best boy friend but never mentions girls, although he gets the standard heterosexist "you must be girl-crazy" gibberish from his dad and uncle.

D
Tuco Salamanca (Raymond Cruz), one of the baddie drug dealers, spends all of his time with men.

Jesse's friends, Badger (Matt L. Jones) and Skinny Pete (Charles Baker), display an interest in women in just one scene.

Hank (Dean Norris), Walt's brother-in-law, who also happens to be a DEA Agent, has a wife, but he spends all of his quality time in the company of men. He even tries to woo Jesse away from Walt.

Who doesn't? This show should be called Everybody Loves Jesse.

So that's what heterosexuals are up to when they think there are no gay people watching.

Plains, April 2016

Getting Sausage Sightings in the locker room at the gym is harder than it sounds.

First, you have to be discrete, "accidentally" turning your head at the exact moment he drops his pants.

Second, you can't gawk. A momentary sidelong glance, no matter how big it is.

Third, guys know that other guys are trying to check out their equipment. Some walk around swinging in the breeze, or even semi-aroused, but most turn their backs at the moment of truth, put on their underwear under a towel, or even head for the showers in their underwear.

My campus gym is even worse: most guys don't even bother with the locker room. They stash their coats, work out, then put on their coats and leave.

And we have single-stall showers with a little curtain, so you can't even get a shower sighting.

But today, against all odds, I got the mother of all Sausage Sightings, a Kovbasa+++ for the record books.

The full post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Dennis the Menace (1959-63), the sitcom adaptation of Hank Ketcham's comic strip, was before my time and rarely rerun, so I have never seen it. But I knew Jay North's Dennis, a gangly blond wearing a striped shirt and white overalls with a famously breathless "golly gee" tone (acquired when his director told the eight-year old to "act younger"). For the first generation of Baby Boomers, he became the iconic Dennis the Menace, even though he was no menace -- his character was kind, helpful, sweet-tempered, even "square," an object of ridicule when the Boomers grew into cynical teenagers.

Jay did not enjoy his years on Dennis. His work schedule was brutal -- not only the show, but guest shots, talk shows, and even an album; he was not allowed to play with the other children on the set, or to get a decent education; his guardians were physically and emotionally abusive. And even after he left the series, he couldn't escape Dennis. He had trouble making friends among his cynical teenage peers; he couldn't keep up in school; casting directors wouldn't consider him.

The highlight of Jay's acting career was the intensely homoromantic movie Maya (1966) and spin-off tv series (1967-68). He loved the location shoots in India; he and his costar, Sajid Khan, became lifelong friends. And he was proud of his performance. But teen idol fame eluded him.

So he tried to distance himself from Dennis by playing mature, adult roles.

The Gay Connection:

In 1969, gay superstar Sal Mineo was directing Fortune and Men's Eyes at the Coronet Theater in Los Angeles, and playing Rocky, who rapes and abuses the naive Smitty (Don Johnson). When Don Johnson was hired to do The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart (1970), Jay North auditioned to replace him (and, according to Mineo, worked very hard to demonstrate that he was up for the role). He rehearsed for several weeks, but the play closed before he could perform.

In 1972, Jay played the lead in a touring company of Norman, Is That You?, about Jewish parents (Hans Conreid, Fritzi Burr) who discover that their son is gay.

Back in Hollywood, Jay did some voiceover work and starred in The Teacher (1974), a sleazy entry in the "teen has sex with older woman" genre. And his acting career was over.

In the 1990s, he became involved with Paul Petersen's A Minor Consideration, dedicated to ameliorating working conditions for child stars. Today Jay works as a prison guard in Florida, but he often attends conventions, where he is always happy to talk to the many older gay men who had a crush on him in 1966.

Old Westbury, New York, October 2000

It's raining hard outside, so Ravi's Bear Party in Old Westbury had rather a low turnout to begin with, and now there are only five of us left:
Ravi and his partner Ken
Yuri and me, waiting for the rain to lighten up a bit.
Ozzie, a NYU undergrad whose ride left, so he's stuck. He'll probably be staying overnight.

We're sitting in the living room, finishing the last of the snacks and swapping stories about the biggest guys we've ever been with, dates from hell, and celebrity hookups.

I tell about my date with Michael J. Fox
Ravi tells about his hookup with Elton John.
Ken tells about his date with Barry Manilow.

Then Ozzie says "Have you ever heard of John F. Kennedy, Junior?"

The jetsetting son of President John Kennedy, lawyer, journalist, athlete, a fixture of New York high society? Of course! He was rumored to be gay or bisexual throughout his life, but we haven't heard about anyone who actually dated him.

"I helped him come out," Ozzie says.

"But..he never actually came out," Ravi protests. "He was married to the end of his life."

"To the end of his life, yes."

Eastside Club, New York, Summer 1999

Ozzie was 19 years old, a biochemistry major from Morocco, newly out, enormously attractive and enormously well-hung. He had a fake id, and he was living in the city with the largest concentration of gay men in the world. Where could he go to meet some? As many as possible?

He wanted to go to the bars, but his friend Jeremy suggested a bath house. No blaring music, no drunks, you could see the guys naked without bringing them home, and you could get with them instantly.

New York had only two bathhouses. The closest was the East Side Club on 56th, a very perfunctory affairs with showers, a small sauna, a video room with bleachers, and rows of small cubicles.

They went on a Friday in July. It was stormy, with black clouds and thunder.

"So, like tonight?" Yuri asks. "Is this a Halloween story?"

Ozzie smiles.

The rest of the story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Joel and Jody McCrea: The Bisexual Cowboy and His Beach-Movie Son

Adrian Zmed After Dark

Lane and His Trophy Boy

Spring 2016: A Hookup with the Trophy Boy and His Dad

Teenage Millionaire: The Teen Idol Career of Jimmy Clanton

Big Bad Brucie

Steve Bond: Most Famous Nude in Hollywood

Homophobic Moment in History: Bob Hope's AIDS Joke

Ricky Nelson

16 Texas Toughs, Houston Hunks, and Hell-fer-Sartain Sausages

Burt Reynolds Naked on a Bear Skin Rug

Saturnino Herran: A Gift of the Gods

Spring 2015: Three Guys on the Same Night

The Postapocalyptic Fade-Out Kiss

Disney's Descendants

September 1984: Sex and Astrology in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas

Breaking Bad: Everyone Loves Jesse

April 2016: A Gigantic Sausage Sighting in the Campus Locker Room

Jay North's Gay Connection

October 2000: Ozzie Hooks Up with John F. Kennedy, Junior