The fountain of Geneva (4) --- the Muttoni's last meal

John and Alex, our friends from the Green Eyes, are being told the back story of the Fountain of Geneva, the most phallic object on the planet (in a liquid sense). Hadrian, the visiting Roman emperor (117-138 AD), has to help the Swiss locals deal with a ravaging Nordic tribe, the Muttoni. And he does so in a circuitous way. He starts a school for erotic talent, the School of Antinous, named after his late lover. Richard Zugabe, librarian of the city archives of Geneva, tells the story. 

Part IV --- the Muttoni's last meal

“Yes, right. So, Hadrian would inspect his Antinousians lined up and fitted in Praetorian garb---the spectacular helmet with a feathered, Cherokee-like crescent fitted to the top, the breast-plate of chased bronze molded to the perfect fit of toned pecs and rippled abs, the humble belt with a loop for the scabbard and a notch to rest the shield. With the belt coming off everything else would drop, creating a wealth of quick opportunities behind (or in front of) the bushes.

Hadrian and Antinous, British Museum

“Trained personnel would see to the maintenance of the bespoke outfits. Hadrian, by the way, had by now been in residence for several months. His entourage had grown considerably with the addition of specialists from all walks of court life, spokespeople, equerries, not to mention personalized assistants who would handle Antinousian emails.”

“Huh?”

“Just to see whether you are still with me. So Hadrian would now select one or more of his pupils, meaning they were to join him on a dais fashioned for group activity---tiger skins, couches, cushions, ancillary toys---but the account I’m referring to is about a one-on-one from the early days of the program.

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There he stands, naked, his genitals sparkling in the morning sun

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The elected youth, Anaximandrius, takes Hadrian’s hand---it is his task now to seduce the Emperor---and lead him to the dais. He invites Hadrian to recline on a couch, then unties his sword and hands it to his personal assistant. Next comes off the helmet.

The fountain of Geneva (3) --- erotic talent

John and Alex, our friends from the Green Eyes, are being told the back story of the Fountain of Geneva, the most phallic object on the planet, in a liquid sense. Hadrian, the visiting Roman emperor (117-138 AD), has to help the Swiss locals deal with a ravaging Nordic tribe, the Muttoni. And he does so in a circuitous way. He starts a school for erotic talent. Richard Zugabe, librarian of the city archives of Geneva, tells the story. Please note the adult content warning.

Part III --- Erotic talent

“When I said that Hadrian kept his plan secret, I meant he kept his intentions secret; the facts were plainly recorded. He put an empire-wide call out for, let me concentrate, let’s get this verbatim, for the primum proelium ego ingenium venereae.”
“Huh?”

Publius Aelius Hadrianus Augustus (Hadrian), Palazzo dei Conservatori, Capitoline Museums.

“I-have-erotic-talent, roughly. You’ll see soon. The call was a big success, the emperor calls upon the youth of the nation, what do you expect, most Roman careers involved the casting couch. So he held his own talent show---even women were admitted in the audience---first to filter for physical features, then to identify sexual prowess, then to select the sensual few. Hadrian had a sensual soul, and he yearned for reciprocity.

___________________

These boys were not for one night, mind you; to complete the program they had to get laid for several months.

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These boys were not for one night, mind you; to complete the program they had to get laid for several months. His final selection comprised exactly fifty specimen of the finest proto-erotici ever gathered in one place.”

“Wow,” I say.

I'm gay, I guess

The Fountain of Geneva (2) --- The Muttoni

John and Alex, our friends from the Green Eyes, are being told the back story of the Fountain of Geneva.  So far we've learned that Caesar visited the place once and was presented with a lust-slave he didn't like (historically true). Now Hadrian, the Roman emperor (117-138 AD) is visiting the place, almost 200 years later. Richard Zugabe, librarian of the city archives of Geneva, tells the story.

Part II --- The Muttoni

“The Aldermen of Geneva had good reasons to avoid their predecessors’ mistake when Hadrian came to town in 133 AD. There wasn’t only the precedent of Caesar’s snub, but also the arrival of the Muttoni (as the Romans would call them), an entire tribe of blond, blue-eyed, oh-my-God people. The Muttoni had settled in the Saas valley, a side valley off the nearby Valais, and were making a big nuisance of themselves. Not content to follow the sheep-raising, cow-milking example of their Celtic neighbors, the Muttoni spent their time on raids. They would maraud through the region and misappropriate everything not nailed down, including human beings---and in particular adolescent males.

“Slavery, though an institution throughout the empire, was not really entrenched in the region. The locals were unable to appreciate six-feet-three hunks knocking on doors, tossing unruly hair, baring wide chests, and pointing steely javelins at innocent kinfolk while dragging handsome youths into captivity.

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Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned. 

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“Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned---resistance was futile, the Muttoni would always prevail. If there was any kind of racial phenotype better not mentioned or presented to visiting big shots, it was the Nordic type of the blue-eyed, hair-tossing chest-barer, whether oh-my-God or not.

The fountain of Geneva (1) ---Caesar's snub

In This is heaven we alleged that the Fountain of Geneva was created by the Roman emperor Hadrian. Here is the back story for this amazing feat, fresh from our laptop.

And, of course, John and Alex from the Green Eyes are somehow involved.

Part I ---  Caesar's snub

We’re off to Europe on our honey moon, Alex wants me to show him my native country. We book a flight into Paris and end up in Geneva because France is on strike and Charles de Gaulle, the airport, is closed. Next thing, we find ourselves strolling through the Swiss city, a bit red-eyed from the flight, and alight on a park bench on the shore of Lake Geneva, snow-topped mountains left and right and in between the Alpine mega-pond.

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“Hundred thirty two gallons of water per second,” he says, “reaching 140 meters into the sky. The Fountain of Geneva. The planet’s most spectacular ejaculation. Since 1900 years.”

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We’re not the only people out, and some guy walks up the shore and then down the shore and finally asks whether the remaining mile of park bench is taken. He speaks French but switches to English as soon as Alex opens his mouth. He sits down, a middle-aged gentleman equipped with a Swiss-Swiss watch, watches his watch, studiously, and finally says, briefly lifting his gaze: “Two minutes.” We return his gaze, he says: “One minute.” Alex grabs my wrist, says: “Relax.” The guy keeps his eyes on his watch, then says: “Voilà.” And voila, the lake gulps, spits, and ejects a gushing column of jizz, a thick white jet rising high into the sky and beyond and falling back into the lake again. “Hundred thirty two gallons of water per second,” he says, “reaching 140 meters into the sky. The Fountain of Geneva. The planet’s most spectacular ejaculation. Since 1900 years.”

The fountain, with the Mont Blanc, the highest mountain of the Alps, in the background

There are worse ways to make a pass at people, I think to myself, especially if you’re into threesomes. Next thing, the guy says: “You know, there are better ways to make a pass at people. That’s what you are possibly thinking, hein?”
“Yes,” I say (let’s cut this short).
“You want to hear the story?”
“The story?”
“The story of this fountain.”
“It’s on the internet, I guess,” I say, but Alex grabs my wrist again.
“No-no,” the guy says, “it’s still classified, after all these years.”
“My name is Alex,” Alex says, “this is John.”
“Enchanté,” the guy says, “I’m Richard, Richard Zugabe. I’ve been the librarian of the city archives for many years. I am the only one with access to the relevant files. Which means something, here in Switzerland. You want to hear the story?”
“Yes,” Alex says.

Come to think of it (Glenn)

No, you do this:

Gundulić's Dream

We really have to watch out, otherwise this blog turns into yet another Facebook page. Anyhow:

Glenn sends this picture to a few friends, including us...

(Click to enlarge)

...and writes: "Boy, those guys sure were busy back then. Is that Michael observing from the shore? His guardian angel was a snappy dresser! Maybe my bible expert could tell me about this painting."

Not bad, Glenn's guess, because, turns out---Google reverse image search---this is a reasonably famous painting by the Croatian artist Vlaho Bukovac titled Gundulić's Dream. And this Gundulić is apparently Ivan Gundulić, a fervent advocate of the Roman-Catholic counterreformation during the 17th century.

And then Sacha (the model for Jack Horn in the Green Eyes), who also got Glenn's letter, sends another picture, namely this one...

...and writes:  "Definitely Michael! More hair though!"

And then there's a mini-flurry of more emails:

"Michael needs more hairs to survive here [in Switzerland] at this moment." (Chang)
"Yes, the alpine sun is strong. Make sure he wears his hat..." (Sacha)
"I will tell him,it is cold here." (Chang)
"FDLMFAO" (Glenn)
"Is there anything you don't know?" (Glenn again).

I will teach you a lesson folks, watch out:

San Francisco (14) --- Connubial bliss, Nordstrom, and so on

Nordstrom on Market Street, San Francisco

Michael A. to Nick Ch. (02 May 2014 07:25:14):

...just great to be in the US...so many ideas...this one came from some billboard for some San Francisco Law School...

“Certainly,” he says, “that’s why we are in the business of writing, isn’t it, to feel inspired, and by feeling inspired getting inspired, and by getting inspired feeling more inspired, and so on.”

“You sound like an expensive graduate course of something,” I say.

________________

Nick Ch. to Michael A.  (02 May 2014 07:26:50 -0700):

Are you still here?

________________

Michael A.. to Nick Ch. ( 02 May 2014 07:29:44 ):

...until May 10...

...Chang sits on the bed next to me (as we speak) and tells me he doesn't want to go back to Nordstrom (the department store) on Market Street, because he went to the toilet there which turned out to be cruising territory, and he fears the police will come next time and arrest him...

Tony de Carlo

Tony de Carlo: "Bird Man Of The Desert", 18" x 24", Acrylic on Canvas, 2006

(We discovered another superb gay artist, Tony de Carlo; see right column for a link to his site)

The religious war is over

Read my lips

And the mandatory fragment from the Green Eyes? From Chapter 20 of course, My father and your father were fathers:  

We're talking about John's father:

You wonder whether he ever raped me? No, he didn't. My mother just caught him on the wrong side of my body, when the thing stopped. Let me explain, I'm politically incorrect here in a terrible way, I know.

Libber-Ace

The book “Behind the candelabra: My life with Liberace” appeared in 1988 and had a good title and a co-author. The movie-idea came to Steven Häagen-Dasz in 2000 during the production of his best movie, Traffic, which also uses Michael Douglas. It took Soderbergh (right, that’s the name), it took him so long because he couldn’t quite figure out “an angle that would differentiate it from a traditional biopic” (according to his own testimony (Wikipedia)). Well, he didn't, or hasn't. This is a traditional biopic with a very traditional story of a very young man being picked up by a very famous one. There is love of some kind (also sex, at one point 4 times per day); there are euphoria, disappointments, drugs, rock-n-roll --- no, actually not, there’s no rock-n-roll because the very famous man is an entertainment pianist from the lounge-lizard school of entertainment pianists --- but there is strife and separation, followed by animosity and reconciliation right before Lee (that’s apparently Liberace’s first name, I always wondered) is carried off by AIDS. AIDS's a kikker for this story, the pianist's HIV-induced death rounds out the plot nicely.

Liberace and Scott Thorson (Damon's character)

I'm not gay, guys

Subliminal (Sacha)

This is us, folks, look at this picture, this is us...

...no, it's Sacha, actually, who sent this picture and writes: "Maybe just my homophobic look on things, but there is a hidden message in this image somewhere..." (he added this grinning emoticon that we can't reproduce here, sadly)

The price of vengeance --- Korea (3)

So we’re on this BA flight to Seoul and grab the Daily Mail, the British tabloid.

“The Price of Vengeance” --- that's the boldface headline of the Mail today and we don’t recognize the faces. “Vicky Price is shell-shocked,” though, and “Chris Huhne may receive a lighter sentence for pleading guilty.” Expressions like "Hell hath no fury," and the Greek saying "a woman and the sea are the same in danger," dance before your lying eyes (Vicky is Greek).

All this has little to do with Korea, except that’s eternal and universal and we have to write it down so we can use it in the next part of the Green Eyes. The entire first 11 pages of the tabloid are about Vicky & Chris & collateral damage & even the boobs on Page 3 have to defer to pictures of a Greek wedding “where Huhne gave his stepdaughter away [although] the MP had already begun a fateful affair with his bisexual aide.”

Who of you is the man? --- Korea (1)

We didn’t have a fight for a few minutes, so it’s not really something for the Connubial Bliss, plus, we’re in Heathrow, changing planes for our trip to JeJu, Korea. South Korea, that is, the place nobody dares to visit since the North is reiterating its prediction that it will throw “small nukes” if feeling annoyed by is ethnic neighbor much longer.

Heathrow airport

Everybody hates Heathrow (queues) but the shopping is supposed to be good, so we have to buy “Polo.” Polo, among other things, is a fragrance created by Ralph Lauren and used by Chang. A spunky duty-free sales-female takes charge first of Chang and then of yours truly as the mammal bond between the two homosexual travelers transpires. We’re apparently adrift in the wrong place and should follow her to the male section and get “something for men.”

(This is a bit overwritten, apologies.)

“We’re kinda girls,” I say ...

Is the pope gay?

That's the question that keeps us erotic writers up at night. And the answer is....

Georg Gänswein is the Camerlengo (chamberlain) of Pople Benedict XV (or XVII? --- who cares)

The camerlengo does all sort of things, like, like declaring the pope officially dead when the pope dies.

Skyfallen (2)

The never-ending story continues, so go here for the first installment.

Hi, I'm Ben Whishaw, the new-new Q, or quartermaster (we never knew that, or did we). I'm glad to combine the old donnish eccentricity of Desmond Llewelyn with the new donnish eccentricity of mainstream nerdism (computers), while discarding any pretense to step into the shoes of John Cleese, who took over from Desmond in the Bond-brand makeover that also brought about Judy Dench. It's a complete miracle what got into John's head when he got into Q's character --- he wasn't funny, he wasn't eccentric, he wasn't British, he wasn't spy-ish --- anyhow, he did so poorly that they had to ditch him and complete a few Q-less Bond installments.  Is the pun intended? --- I haven't made up my mind yet, sorry. Well, I'm here to stay.

I'm a bad boy (re-blogged)

(Hat tip: a site on Tumblr with "Bad Boy" in the name that we failed to retrieve afterwards)

Did you sleep well?

"Why, oh why, have beauty spots gone out of fashion?"