Let them eat beefake

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Today I was watching a couple of women leafing through the ‘good girl art’ books I alluded to a few weeks back. Sometimes a girl will sit on the floor with a few, attentively leafing through them. Mostly they are more consciously attired, wearing more inventive makeup than most of the women who visit the shop. Probably searching for touches they might add or wondering how’d they have dressed in an earlier decade.

You’ll never see a straight man looking for tips in masculine swagger in the Tom of Finland books we sometimes carry (maybe Maxim would like an article?). Of course anybody looking that butch is probably gay.

On and off I’ve looked for gay imagery for my web pages. Aside from the rare old picture all of the drawings and paintings tend towards the hypermasculine.

I can’t help but think there’s a market for the gay male painter with the playfulness of Vargas or Olivia. There are plenty of types to render: A&F boys, gymbots, ravers, not to mention the variations of Village People. And fantasy riffs like Vallejo’s zebra woman or somebody else’s devil girls.


Charles has been feeling nauseated the last few days. His nausea medication conflicts with his Zoloft and too regular a usage can condemn you to lifetime of spastic motion and trembling. Tomorrow he’s going to check and see if there aren’t some new alternatives.

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Let them eat beefake
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