I’m not a big fan of the “swoopy hair” look on guys. I’m afraid Justin Bieber does nothing for me. But the guy in today’s photo post looks pretty good to me. What do you think.
Moving along …
I’d like to discuss my policy on posting comments I receive on this blog. I post less than five percent of the total sent here. There are reasons for this:
(1) Some comments are intended to be private, especially those from young gay athletes: surfers, skateboarders, wrestlers and others, who are closeted. I would never violate their privacy rights.
(2) Many comments are not constructive. They are profanity-laden, hostile and, more often than not, grammatically hopeless. Who wants to read such ignorant vitriol? Not me. And not my readers. There are a lot of angry people out there, friends. I’ll let them keep their anger to themselves.
(3) Many comments say nothing more than, “The guy in this photo post is really hot.” Okay, I’m pleased to receive these; they let me know what people like and what they don’t. But they aren’t something most followers of this blog want to read. Please don’t be offended if I don’t post your “he’s hot” comment. I still want to hear from you.
It’s pretty nasty on the island, weather-wise, today. The wind’s blowing hard, it’s kind of cold, and the sky is overcast. I’m still recovering from this crappy cold. I don’t feel bad. I just don’t feel 100%. Plus, I have this cough that makes me sound like I smoke two packs a day. Aye-yi-yi …
I’ll spend a few hours working on my story, Convicts. It’s already up to 10,000 words and there’s no end in sight. I’m guessing it’ll turn into a short novel, which is fine. What I really like about the story is the setting: 1965 Tampa, FL. It’s always fun telling a story set in a non-contemporary era. It reminds people of their past, if they are old enough to remember the period. And it acquaints younger readers with how things were in former times.
I think it’s particularly important to remind younger gay readers of the difficulties gay men encountered during the pre-Gay Rights era in the United States. Persecution was a real thing. In 1965 you could be arrested for slow-dancing with another man in a night club. No joke.
After a couple of sluggish days, the blog got very busy today, traffic-wise. I’m sure we’ll have more than 1,000 visitors today with no problem, maybe even 1,500. Weekends are always busier, it seems. Thanks to everyone for stopping by.
Okay, folks, that’s enough rambling. Enjoy your Saturday, wherever you are.