A Quiet Evening

Secret Agent Fred appeared and we went out for drinks and vicodin at the Glass Coffin, drinks served by Fred's friend, the luscious Speros.

Tragically, this does not begin to show the beauty of Speros.  If you add the circumference of his biceps, they would probably exceed his tiny little waist.  Bitch.

I had just picked up the Vikeys so they were fresh, the weather was warm and cute boys were swarming all over the Castro.  A good time was had by all.

We wandered home and sat down for a game I like to call "What Does the Internet Have to Say?"  Each of us takes turns showing the other what fresh hell the web has proffered us lately.  Fred had me watch several videos by a hip hop duo from South Africa called Die Antwoord who rap in some gibberish mix of English and Afrikaans and, for all I know, Morse code.  It is not entertainment geared towards those of us amused by Noel Coward.  Nevertheless, I still thought it was pretty funny, mostly because of these incredibly white South African kids flashing gang signs and attitude and fashion that would have been perfectly at home in Compton, circa 1990.

Fred taking a short, unauthorized nap on the floor of the mrpeeneee International Command Centre and Communications Department. 

For my part, I introduced Fred to the genius of Slow Ass Jolene, the Dolly Parton classic slowed down considerably, which comes out sounding astonishingly like ballad singin' dude, perfectly in pitch, even the harmonies.  It is amazing.  Even if, or especially if, you don't like Dolly, you should listen to it.

Also, I can't remember where this came to my attention.  If one of you guys posted it first, I want to say thanks and apologize for not sharing credit.

After that, naturally, the evening devolved into a porn fest.  Fred shared A Bearded Boy , some slightly deranged gay lad who is nasty and cheerful as all hell about it.

Spooge happens.

Subsequent unguided and possibly unhinged wanderings from one site to another turned up what we both voted as the winner of the evening:

I have no information about him, I can only imagine this shot shows him locking the door against the clamoring throngs outside.  Who can blame them?