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| "Your sweet ...," Vilela Valentin |
(find more art here)
Aug 1, 2014
Jul 30, 2014
Coming out and of age in China (1) (reblogged)
Cool, folks, cool, the first part of a wonderful story by Massoud Hayoun, an Arab-American who went to China at the age of 19 to learn Mandarin. The piece---originally published by Gawker---is here reblogged with the permission of the author. It will easily count as one of the best examples of gay writing this year...
He would have been my first, I suppose---a Korean student at some other school in Beijing's Wudaokou university district.
I'd met him on a website. You're the first and only person I've ever admitted that to, handsome reader. I suppose I want to feel closer to you.
I was 19, Arab-American, studying Mandarin and poli sci at a Chinese university. I was exceptionally awkward, and still under the impression that no one knew I was gay. They all knew and indulged me my illusions of illusiveness.
He was in his mid-20s. School was hard for him, he said, in our brief chat on a website for gay men in Asia.
I'd heard of a class of Korean students like him---unsuccessful and blowing their family's money away learning Mandarin, while China busily worked itself into the world's second-largest economy. Their parents wouldn't let them come home until they obtained a certificate of completion, and the Chinese universities appeared keen to keep accepting international student tuition fees, even if they were from the same students, year-in, year-out.
He was foreign---not just in the sense that we were of two different nationalities, living in China. He was a bad student, a rich kid, a magnificently athletic loser with a Rocky-like neanderthal chin and tall nose, the kind of man who is called, in Chinese, a baijiazi, a son who spoils his family's wealth. Fresh, preppy. He wore clothes my Chinese friends paid twice as much for at the bazaars: Korean fashion. His man-bag was made of real leather. He was a petit bourgeois; every lock of hair had been calculated and every pore tightened, perhaps surgically, because he had the time, money and inclination. He turned me on.
He would have been my first, I suppose---a Korean student at some other school in Beijing's Wudaokou university district.
I'd met him on a website. You're the first and only person I've ever admitted that to, handsome reader. I suppose I want to feel closer to you.
I was 19, Arab-American, studying Mandarin and poli sci at a Chinese university. I was exceptionally awkward, and still under the impression that no one knew I was gay. They all knew and indulged me my illusions of illusiveness.
 |
| (Just an illustration) |
He was in his mid-20s. School was hard for him, he said, in our brief chat on a website for gay men in Asia.
I'd heard of a class of Korean students like him---unsuccessful and blowing their family's money away learning Mandarin, while China busily worked itself into the world's second-largest economy. Their parents wouldn't let them come home until they obtained a certificate of completion, and the Chinese universities appeared keen to keep accepting international student tuition fees, even if they were from the same students, year-in, year-out.
He was foreign---not just in the sense that we were of two different nationalities, living in China. He was a bad student, a rich kid, a magnificently athletic loser with a Rocky-like neanderthal chin and tall nose, the kind of man who is called, in Chinese, a baijiazi, a son who spoils his family's wealth. Fresh, preppy. He wore clothes my Chinese friends paid twice as much for at the bazaars: Korean fashion. His man-bag was made of real leather. He was a petit bourgeois; every lock of hair had been calculated and every pore tightened, perhaps surgically, because he had the time, money and inclination. He turned me on.
Jul 29, 2014
The view this morning
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| The Signalhorn seen from our chalet |
(How to explain this? You've heard of Trotzki vs. Stalin? Along those lines. The snowflakes are fake, but the rest is not. This morning, around 7 AM)
Jul 25, 2014
Gallery (5) --reposted
(Pedro Palanca died yesterday from HIV-related liver complications --- we posted this only 10 days ago:)
 |
| "Drinking men," Pedro Palanca |
(For more art, go here)
"That's not enough!" (French for beginners)
Please read this...it's only one paragraph from the London Review of Books connecting our recent Foucault post (by Mr. E.) with our own faux-French background with our quest for happy endings (just so that you know, Alain Robbe-Grillet was the inventor of the nouveau roman)...please read this:
"By now, most readers in France had ceased to care [about Robbe-Grillet]; even his intellectual champions lost interest, although [Roland] Barthes stood by him. ‘Transgression’ had come to mean l’écriture féminine and gay erotica; Robbe-Grillet’s hetero-sadist fixations looked decidedly démodé, quite possibly reactionary. (Fredric Jameson wondered whether his books had become ‘unreadable since feminism’.) At the party for Barthes’s 1977 inaugural lecture at the Collège de France, Foucault confronted Robbe-Grillet: ‘I have told you this already and I will say it again, Alain: when it comes to sex, you are, and always have been misguided!’ Barthes rose to his defence, reminding Foucault that Robbe-Grillet was, at the very least, a pervert. Foucault replied: ‘Ça ne suffit pas!’"
 |
| Alain Robbe-Grillet |
"By now, most readers in France had ceased to care [about Robbe-Grillet]; even his intellectual champions lost interest, although [Roland] Barthes stood by him. ‘Transgression’ had come to mean l’écriture féminine and gay erotica; Robbe-Grillet’s hetero-sadist fixations looked decidedly démodé, quite possibly reactionary. (Fredric Jameson wondered whether his books had become ‘unreadable since feminism’.) At the party for Barthes’s 1977 inaugural lecture at the Collège de France, Foucault confronted Robbe-Grillet: ‘I have told you this already and I will say it again, Alain: when it comes to sex, you are, and always have been misguided!’ Barthes rose to his defence, reminding Foucault that Robbe-Grillet was, at the very least, a pervert. Foucault replied: ‘Ça ne suffit pas!’"
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 15, 2014
Gallery (5) (Pedro Palanca)
|
| "Drinking men," Pedro Palanca |
(For more art, go here)
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 13, 2014
The fountain of Geneva (5) --- "Infinite Jest"
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), had to help the Swiss locals deal with a ravaging Nordic tribe, the Muttoni. And he did so, apparently. Richard Zugabe, librarian of the city archives of Geneva, explains how (his last sentence was: "Nothing was ever heard of the Muttoni again.")
Part V --- "Infinite Jest"
There is a silence. “Cool,” Alex says. “You are going to elaborate?”
“I will try.”
“They got OD’d on this Megalo-wine,” I say, “they had no tolerance for the stuff.”
“Right, that would be hypothesis number one. It had been my working hypothesis until I discovered yet another document in the archives with an imperial order issued on the fifth of September of the same year, sending a platoon of Army Engineers across the Passo di Monte Moro into the Saas valley.
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| Saas valley, including Lake Mattmark, seen from the Passo di Monte Moro |
“Hadrian had been given a tour of the place, so you can assume that he was shown Lake Mattmark, a pearl of a mountain lake sitting right above the grounds of the Muttoni settlement.”
“Above the grounds? Above?”
___________________
The ice barrier would collapse and the water would gush down the valley and destroy everything in its path.
___________________
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 10, 2014
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.
“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.
“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.
There he stands, naked, his genitals sparkling in the morning sun
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.
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.
___________________
There he stands, naked, his genitals sparkling in the morning sun
___________________
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.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 7, 2014
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.
“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?”
“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.
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.
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.
___________________
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.
Jul 5, 2014
German for beginners (Sacha)
Most readers of this blog, we can safely assume, know this picture:
But how about this one:
(Saying: "The removal of this notice is strictly forbidden---The German Railways")
But how about this one:
(Saying: "The removal of this notice is strictly forbidden---The German Railways")
Jul 4, 2014
+Christiane+Vleugels.jpg)
Jul 1, 2014
Sirrr --- we told you so (Iraq war)
(Letter to The Economist)
Sirrr:
We sit on the lavatory where we tend to read your "newspaper" ever since you supported George W. Bush's invasion of Iraq, and---we can't trust our eyes, it's not possible, yes, let's have a third look---and you are writing elliptically in your edition of June 14, on page 11 in the European edition:
Right, one would say, wouldn't one.
As far as I recall, you continued to justify your backing of the war for years and years---the last attempt to do so appeared ca. two years ago on your opinion pages---so perhaps you might find the space to elaborate what finally made you change your mind. The Iraq war was destined to be, as for example Barack Obama, or President Jaques Chirac, or many others---including yours truly---did tell you then, in advance, just putting one and one together, the war was destined to be a mayor mistake with foreseeable consequences, destabilization of the Middle East, strengthening of Iran, senseless squandering of taxpayer's money, senseless squandering of human life, we told you, we told you, we told you so.
You are co-responsible for this...
Sirrr:
We sit on the lavatory where we tend to read your "newspaper" ever since you supported George W. Bush's invasion of Iraq, and---we can't trust our eyes, it's not possible, yes, let's have a third look---and you are writing elliptically in your edition of June 14, on page 11 in the European edition:
"No doubt, his [Obama's] predecessor's decision to go to war---which we mistakenly backed at the time---was a disaster."
Right, one would say, wouldn't one.
As far as I recall, you continued to justify your backing of the war for years and years---the last attempt to do so appeared ca. two years ago on your opinion pages---so perhaps you might find the space to elaborate what finally made you change your mind. The Iraq war was destined to be, as for example Barack Obama, or President Jaques Chirac, or many others---including yours truly---did tell you then, in advance, just putting one and one together, the war was destined to be a mayor mistake with foreseeable consequences, destabilization of the Middle East, strengthening of Iran, senseless squandering of taxpayer's money, senseless squandering of human life, we told you, we told you, we told you so.
You are co-responsible for this...
The world soccer (football) cup and us (and our dentist)
Its always thus: while Bernard-Henri Lévy (don't ask, or google "pictures of French Intellectuals"---they are all his), so while Lévy and Dominique Strauss-Kahn (the IMF chief who fell onto his penis over a few sexual minutes in his Hotel Suite) are "good friends" who "know each other well," us---we only know the concierge of Michel Foucault, the other French intellectual, the guy who died an early AIDS-death in 1985. And even that isn't true (we don't know the concierge, that is).
Along those lines. We never met Sepp Blatter, the much-discussed head of the FIFA, the organization that runs the world soccer cup. BUT---we know his brother, almost. Have a look at this picture.
We took the picture this morning on the way to the dentist. It's a car dealership, located at the entrance of Visp, the nearest town from us down in the Valais valley. The home town of the Blatter clan.The Blatter AG, you see it? On the sign, to the left. That Blatter's brother, and we almost know the guy because they also have a car-wash where we have our car cleaned irregularly. Cool, isn't it.
And the dentist. Lives in nearby Naters (picture (this morning)). Don't get jealous. We've added a bit magenta to the picture. The real colors are less picturesque.
Along those lines. We never met Sepp Blatter, the much-discussed head of the FIFA, the organization that runs the world soccer cup. BUT---we know his brother, almost. Have a look at this picture.
 |
 |
«Amis pédophiles, à demain!» (reposted)
 |
| Nikolas Sarkozy, former French president, was arrested yesterday for money laundering. |
Remember our post of Nov. 23, 2010 about the then-French-president Nikolas Sarkozy and billionairess Liliane Bettencourt? He're the post again:
The French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, to journalists, in response to questions about his role in the Karachi affair (one of countless French scandals involving money being redirected into the coffers of the governing party):
 |
| «Et vous, j’ai rien du tout contre vous. Il semblerait que vous soyez pédophile… Qui me l’a dit? J’en ai l’intime conviction (…) Pouvez-vous vous justifier?». |
(Translation: And you? I've nothing against you. It looks like you are pedophile. How do I know? I'm thoroughly convinced. Could you please justify yourself.)
Then he waved goodbye to the journalists with the words:"«Amis pédophiles, à demain!»
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 28, 2014
Fucking Foucault (reblogged)
Here's another beautiful piece from the mysterious Mr. E., the force behind the 50 Shady Gays. Enjoy:
I’m sure that every queer cultural theorist has thought about it at some point haven’t they?
I was first fucked by Michel Foucault during the nineties when I was a raver/rock star and all round fuck up. It wasn’t until I was a mature student, when I was reading articles on discourse and power, that I thought to myself, I actually love this man.
I have never been literally fucked by him of course, but I have in a literary way, which is often much more intimate and powerful – and I suppose in some way it’s all about the power isn’t it?
Anyway, being incredibly vain and sexually unfulfilled as a performer (exclusively top), I naturally thought that in some way my life mirrored his; indeed, as I flounced across stages, and tripped through a myriad of alien, urban sprawls (oh so bohemian and clever); I stupidly imagined myself to be his successor. Yes, I alone would weave the power of his madness into my own duvet of sexual discovery, because I was unique – it was like he was speaking to me, and me alone.
I’m sure that every queer cultural theorist has thought about it at some point haven’t they?
I was first fucked by Michel Foucault during the nineties when I was a raver/rock star and all round fuck up. It wasn’t until I was a mature student, when I was reading articles on discourse and power, that I thought to myself, I actually love this man.
 |
| Michel Foucault (1926-1984) |
Anyway, being incredibly vain and sexually unfulfilled as a performer (exclusively top), I naturally thought that in some way my life mirrored his; indeed, as I flounced across stages, and tripped through a myriad of alien, urban sprawls (oh so bohemian and clever); I stupidly imagined myself to be his successor. Yes, I alone would weave the power of his madness into my own duvet of sexual discovery, because I was unique – it was like he was speaking to me, and me alone.
Jun 27, 2014
Gallery &-t
There is so much good stuff out there, we have to start a gallery. Plus, it'll make our life easier; we need no further excuse for posting pictures once in a while without further excuse ("Huh?"). So here are the first five pictures by Tony de Carlo, Bob Bienpensant, Joe Phillips, Jezza Smilez, and Michael Breyette:
 |
| "Adam Steve Eden," Tony de Carlo (2002) |
Jun 25, 2014
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.
“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.
Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned.
“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.
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.
___________________
Many locals were killed during the raids of course, courageous fathers, desperate mothers, trustful dogs, even the stray mother-in-law is mentioned.
___________________
“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.
Jun 22, 2014
The hottest criminal ever
Yes, we know, this is a stupid header. Anyhow, Jeremy Meeks got himself arrested in 2002:
And again in 2008:
And now what? We have Facebook now, so he decides to go viral, and have himself arrested one more time:
His mug shot triggers 50,000 likes on Facebook in one day. And comments like these:
-'He didn't know any different. I could turn him into a "model" citizen. Where can I pay his bail?'
-'He needs to be a model. I would buy whatever he's selling!'
-'What is he guilty of?! First Degree Sexiness?!'
-'He'll probably be on next years prison calendar...Mr....EVERY MONTH!'
-'Marry me, Mr Meeks! Hopefully he changes his ways - but I'll take him any day...'
-'I would go to prison for aiding and aBEDding him'
-'I wanna be in his cell!'
Jeremy Meeks!
 |
 |
| 2008 |
 |
| 2014 |
His mug shot triggers 50,000 likes on Facebook in one day. And comments like these:
-'He didn't know any different. I could turn him into a "model" citizen. Where can I pay his bail?'
-'He needs to be a model. I would buy whatever he's selling!'
-'What is he guilty of?! First Degree Sexiness?!'
-'He'll probably be on next years prison calendar...Mr....EVERY MONTH!'
-'Marry me, Mr Meeks! Hopefully he changes his ways - but I'll take him any day...'
-'I would go to prison for aiding and aBEDding him'
-'I wanna be in his cell!'
Jeremy Meeks!
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 19, 2014
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.
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.
“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.”
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.”
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.
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.
_____________________
“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.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 13, 2014
Find a caption
 |
| "The Taliban has arrived" |
 |
| (lol) |
...and writes: "On my way to Sweden the other day... I waved, but I guess you didn't look up that very moment..."...
...so we write in reply: "No-no, we waved back."
(Very deep!)
Jun 9, 2014
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