Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Ken-dred Spirits

wrestlebard4 Comments

I’ve hardly been subtle when it comes to my keen interest in interviewing homoerotic wrestlers. Reading Joe’s awesome interviews has given me a powerful craving to sit down with the athletes that have inspired so many of my fondest erotic fantasies and find out what it’s like being on their side of the camera. My interview with reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month and favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy division), Lon Dumont, pretty much gave me a natural high for about three months earlier this year. So it’s no wonder that I was ecstatic to receive an email from classic BG East jobber and hot, hairy, über-proudly Canadian, Ken Canada.

Turns out, Ken reads neverland! He had some interesting insights to share about some of our favorite current BG East wrestlers that we might like to double-team together (watch your back, Mr. Joshua!). Ever the intrepid pseudo-journalist and homoerotic wrestling fanatic, I followed up by asking Ken if he’d be willing to give me an interview. I tried to be all cool and non-chalant about it (while silently pleading to Gaelic gods of my ancestors, who I don’t actually believe in, for him to say yes). His enthusiastic agreement gave me a shot of adrenaline that’s still pumping through my veins.

Here’s the first half of our extensive conversation about Ken Canada’s journey of self-discovery through the world of homoerotic wrestling. I’m including links to the wrestling videos that he mentions (you’re going to want to re-discover these gems!), and I’ll post the second half of the interview tomorrow. So sit back, enjoy, and if you’re at all like me, you’ll be delighted to find that Ken Canada will charm the pants off you!


——–

BG East’s Ken Canada

Bard: Let me just say again, for the record, how thrilled and humbled I am to get to interview The Ken Canada! How did you first get involved in wrestling?

Ken: Well… I clearly recall being “turned on” to pro wrestling since the age of about twelve or thirteen. Once the matches had begun, I was mesmerized by them! Back then, the different wrestling programs had new faces (and bodies) almost every week. Mostly, the “fresh meat” came in the form of jobbers. Each week I’d be frozen in front of the tube absorbing all the images of hunky guys being tossed around, spladled, Boston Crabbed, sleepered, etc. into screaming submission. I’d loved it then…and I still love it now…even more!

Bard: Sounds like the jobbers really grabbed your attention early on.

Ken: Actually, the big, bad, muscular heels, who were occasionally “masked” (bonus!) were always my secretly erotic favorites. I loved when they’d throw handsome, muscular jobbers around the ring, suspend them over their knees and then sadistically smile, as they’d hold the poor muscle boys in sadistically agonizing “back breakers”; a hold which best displayed the jobbers’ invitingly bulging packages to the ever-voyeuristic camera and, vicariously, to the overly-horny young guys (just like me) watching from their homes.
Bard: I’m with you 100% on the perfection of a backbreaker for showing off a suffering hunk! Who were your favorites?

Ken: Among the hunk jobbers – and there’ve been so many over the years to “ogle” – Tom Zenk has always been closest to my heart…and to my more “southerly” body parts as well! Tommy Zenk’s still my all time favorite jobber. Aside from being drop dead gorgeous and having formerly held the very prestigious bodybuilding title of Mr. Minnesota, Tommy has always maintained his extraordinary body, keeping it in prime condition. Ever the consummate jobber, he also knew well which body positions he should adopt when being beaten down within the ring. While he’d be sprawled out upon on the ring floor, Z-Man excelled at “selling” feigned jobber agony by writhing about in a myriad of delightfully arousing contorted body positions – offering his audience a wide variety of sexually stimulating images, which (and thank God for VCR’s…and for the even more recent, and much better, PVR’s) they’d often tirelessly “scrotum-ize” over in private later. And so, it was via the pausing and then slow-mo forwarding of sexually arousing images of such wrestlers as Z-Man, Brad Armstrong, Steve Strong, Alex Wright, Rene Dupree, Romeo Roselli, etc. that I’d mitigated what would have otherwise been a somewhat traumatic, kicking-and-screaming eventual acceptance of my own homosexuality. These televised wrestlers became my brothers…my “Ken-dred” spirits!

Bard: I can totally identify. There’s a reason Tom Zenk in mid-dropkick is the banner image for my blog. What a fantasy man! So when did you get tuned into explicitly homoerotic wrestling?

BG East Classic: Brian Baxter

Ken: When I was about twenty-eight, I was living in downtown Toronto, Ontario. I’d become friends with a couple of gay guys who shared my obsessive passion for pro-wrestling and for how I’d naturally eroticize the family-friendly ring choreography in the televised matches. One afternoon, one of my buddies had invited me over to his place to watch a new video that he’d recently received in the mail from an erotic wrestling company out of Pembroke, Massachusetts, called, BG East Wrestling. I sat next to him transfixed upon the screen. I couldn’t believe that what had been going on inside my mind over the past twelve or more years, had actually been captured on film! It seemed surreal! This life altering match, which had effectively served to throw open my morally locked flood gates and to subsequently release the long, backed-up flood waters within me, featured Brian Baxter and the head of the BG East empire himself…Mr. Kid Leopard. It was, and still is, a wildly hot, sexually explosive match.

Bard: Superbouts 1! I’ve got that on DVD, and it’s fantastic! Baxter drips cocky, smart-ass sexuality and KL pushes every single button I’ve got. I can completely understand how that match could catalyze a burgeoning wrestling kink!

Ken: It’s awesome!!! I ‘d bought one on video years ago, but I think it’s time that I order the upgraded, DVD version myself! Before leaving my friend’s apartment, I’d written down the BG East mailing address, which appeared at the end of the video. The next evening, I wrote a short note to Kid Leopard, in which I’d asked him if he ever welcomed Canadian guys to have a shot at becoming a BG East wrestler, and I’d mailed it off to him that next morning. I guess it was about maybe ten days or two weeks later; I was home making dinner and the phone rang. It was Kid Leopard himself! I couldn’t believe it! I felt just like a “gob-smacked”, word-challenged groupie!

Bard: Holy crap! Just like that? You see your first homoerotic wrestling match and two weeks later you’re talking to The Boss of BG East?! That’s incredible! When was this?

Ken hanging out in Pembroke

Ken: I think the call came sometime in the spring of 1996. I’m pretty sure it was then, because, by the end of our conversation – which lasted over half an hour – Kid Leopard had invited me down to Pembroke, Massachusetts for the coming July Fourth weekend. He’d also invited maybe twelve or fifteen veteran BG East wrestlers from his wrestlers’ stable in order to film some hot wrestling matches in between the partying times. I’d arrived late on the Friday afternoon. I remember that my heart was racing wildly as I walked up to the front door. Now, here I was, on the doorstep of Kid Leopard’s lair and of the home of BG East. As the door opened, Kid Leopard greeted me with a big, grinning smile and a strong, wrestler’s handshake.

Bard: I know what you mean! I was there this summer, and my heart was racing when I stood there on the doorstep and KL opened the door. The BG East compound is amazing, isn’t it?

Ken: The house was magnificent. Everywhere I looked, the place dripped with tasteful elegance tempered by touches of cozy comfort. It felt like how home should feel. Within moments, I was downstairs in the Mat Room. There I was…actually standing on the BG East, black wrestling mats with their signature logo, where many young, muscular wrestling studs had lost their match, their dignity and puddles of hard- earned sweat, among other precious bodily fluids. Oh! If only those mats could talk! And then we headed back upstairs..all the way up to the uppermost floor to the BG East Ring Room! As the door to the room swung open and the ring became visible, I suddenly felt a small lump form in my throat. Wow! This is it! The mother lode! I felt just like Richard Dreyfus’ character must’ve felt in Speilberg’s, “Close Encounters Of The Third Kind”…awestruck, mesmerized, and not wanting to be anywhere else! This was it; my raison d’être. I wanted to climb up and enter that mothership of spaces and to be instantly transported up, up and away from this humdrum world. I just needed someone to pinch me in order to truly know that it was really real, and that I wasn’t just in the middle of some wonderful, but short-lived dream!

Bard: You were living a fantasy thousands of us have dreamed of!

BG East’s Sal Bruno

Ken: That next day, Saturday, I received more than a mere pinch. I was punched, slapped, stretched, spread-eagled, and had my eagerly churning baby-makers punched and squeezed repeatedly by none other than big, bulging, sexy, sadistic heel, Sal Bruno. My inaugural BG East match was up against this hunky, muscular, goatee-sporting, monster heel of a man.

Bard: Looks like that was the only BG East match Sal Bruno wrestled. He looks like he was quite a hunk! What was it like to stand there in the ring with him?

Ken: He’d just keep coming at me in the ring relentlessly! Sure. I’d asked…O.K., begged for everything that was about to be handed me. And, as the old adage goes and as I would all too soon come to learn (…and painfully so): “Be careful what you ask for!” Sal Bruno pulled no punches. He did pull my hair, though. Reciprocating proved pretty challenging though. He was/is still pretty much bald, but I have to say that bald was, and shall always most definitely be, a very sexy look on Sal!

Ken Canada’s introduction to BG East wrestling 

Bard: Some of my favorite wrestlers are bald. What was your game plan against him?

Ken: So, failing at any attempts to strike back at the big lug by means of hair pulling, I was forced to resort to a more accessible target: the big, blue elephant in the room… Sal’s massive bulge. That was to be my intended target… prominent, hard to miss, and it appeared to grow even larger with every passing moment of our match! It was kinda’ exciting being trapped beneath Sal’s massive, sweaty bulge, though. OK, I have to admit that most of my protests to the contrary were merely weak attempts at acting like I was feeling humiliated or abused. Truth be known, I loved every moment that this big, hunky heel’s swollen, blue basket was pressed into/onto my face; covering and smothering my nose and mouth so that all I could breath and taste was Sal’s intoxicating man scent! (Ohhh, YEAHHHHHH! )

Bard: Oh my God. I may have to take a break here. This is turning me on! Oh, fuck it. I want to hear more…

Ken: The next night, I was to experience yet another unbelievably wonderful wrestling dream: BG East’s first ever oil-wrestling orgy in which every body part of every BG East wrestler who’d been there that weekend had been slathered up with oil and then thrown into the hot, writhing fray. Kid Leopard had called it, “Wrestlefest 1,” and all I can remember about having been part of it, is how I’ve never experienced anything even remotely close to the raunchy thrills I was experiencing in the BG East ring on that magical evening.

Ken Canada right where he belongs: the the middle of BG East’s Battle R’Oil 

Bard: The Wrestlefest Battle R’Oil!!! What an insanely hot scenario! That match was a veritable who’s who of classic BG East fantasymen. Dark Rogers, Ian Nesbitt, DW, Shane McCall… if I’m not mistaken, it looks like you were having an insanely good time slathered in oil. Was it even half as over-the-top sexy as it looks?

Ken and his brothers-in-wrestling

Ken: On DVD, it looks hot, but believe me…actually being a part of it was ten times hotter! The arousing feeling of all those hot, slippery muscular bodies making full contact with each other, with many strong, curious hands eagerly reaching into each other’s bulging, oil-dripping spandex is unlike anything you’ve ever even dreamed of experiencing! And to add to the raunchiness, Kid Leopard had chosen to dim the room lights. Ahhhhhhh…Ohhhhh! Yeahhhhh! On my final night there, the film, “Independence Day” had just opened in the theaters, and I’d asked if we could all go as a group to see it. The film was a lot of fun, but what I’d most enjoyed that evening in that darkened theater was the feeling of being nestled next to my wrestling idols and newfound “brothers;” sharing something which went far beyond a movie – it felt almost as if I’d found a place in a second family which, up until that weekend, I didn’t even know I’d had. From a small group of like-minded, beautiful men who had, on that weekend, assembled in Pembroke, Massachusetts from all over the world, I’d made wonderful new friends, with whom I’ll be forever brothers in wrestling!

Bard: What a heart-warming image, picturing you all hanging out together and taking in a movie.

Ken: Yeah, I felt like I was sitting around the dinner table at the Walton’s house. “Good night, John Boy!”

Down for the Count

wrestlebard6 Comments

I received this email last night:

Kink is sad to announce that we have stopped production of Naked Kombat for the time being. There will be no new updates to the site for the foreseeable future. This was a difficult decision and we would like to extend a warm “Thank You” to all of our members and fans.

Truth be told, I haven’t been enjoying Naked Kombat as much as I used to. I know I’m not alone among the wrestling kink crowd in my waning interest in the pornboy-does-erotic-combat format.  For me, it may have been the relentless structure of NK that quickly became formulaic (which is a major criticism I have of porn in general). After a while it felt like each release was the same product, just with different bodies cycling through. It could have been the wrestlers. The pornboy stars lately have not been giving me the instant arousal that NK boys in the past have. My waning attention for NK could certainly have had to do with the kombat itself. Occasionally there were seriously enthusiastic and skilled grapplers hitting the NK mat, but too often the kombatants came across more as pornboys tussling as foreplay for the way they really make their money: the sex round.

Rookie Gavin Waters thinks he’s got my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy’s number.
Calm, cool, collected Trent Diesel knows better.

The factors explaining my waning interest probably have absolutely nothing to do with Kink’s decision to terminate production of NK.  But I’m still feeling a little grief over the loss of the company that has brought me several of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. Trent Diesel, my reigning homoerotic wrestling pornboy, may be in serious danger of losing his grip on the title unless another company picks up his most entertaining talents (please!).

Ripped Trent Diesel teaches cocky Gavin Waters the price of losing at Naked Kombat.

One of the aspects of NK that I’ve definitely enjoyed is their particular blend of wrestling and homoeroticism. The grapplers were always explicitly rewarded for bringing the sexy into the confrontation. They received points for cock abuse, force-feeding, ass slapping, etc. And then in the sex round, the victor’s task was to take possession of the loser and heap humiliation in any way possible (though imaginations were often wanting in round 4, in my opinion). Spanking, the pony ride, the rat tail… a relatively narrow repertoire of humiliation was sprinkled in amid the otherwise straightforward sucking and fucking.

Rusty is master at exploiting all 4 rounds to their maximum wrestling kink potential.

Arguably, no one exploited the format more entertainingly than Rusty Stevens, which also contributed to his very long tenure as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. His leg choke while controlling Tommy Defendi’s every self-stimulating move like a sadistic puppeteer, was probably the most arousing and innovative sex round device I ever saw in NK.

Tommy Defendi is defenseless against the crushing tide of Rusty’s offense.

I believe Rusty was undefeated in NK competition, which is the way it should be, in my opinion. Left to his own devices, Rusty was a force of nature, beating away his opponent’s defenses like the rising tide itself, until one by one they fell and Rusty climbed on top. Elsewhere, Rusty has been more scripted, less spontaneous, which has simply not exploited the raw, animal, aggressive sexuality of this gorgeous pornboy.

Nikko Alexander mistakenly thinks he’s got it all wrapped up against lean DJ and his monster cock.

NK also gave me considerable pleasure in watching the character (and physical) development of NK scrapper, DJ. Setting aside the relatively racist undertones of his opponent’s trash talking, referencing his tightly kinky hair, most of the time DJ worked his own magic and won retribution for any pre-match slights by conquering one hard, bigger man after another through sheer force of will and ever increasing proficiency on the mat.

DJ is single-handely unstoppable against Cameron Adams & Leo Forte (combined!)!

That truly stunning monster cock of DJ’s didn’t hurt any either (except when ever inch of it was slammed up a loser’s ass). DJ grew on me over time. With every new match he got stronger, faster, and more technically skilled. His victory rounds got hotter and hotter, and there’s just about nothing as awe-inspiring as his performance teaming up with partner Trent against Cameron Adams and Leo Forte.

DJ and Trent Diesel illustrate teamwork at it’s very, very best!

The twosome of Trent and DJ are a striking pair to gaze at, but even their opponents agree in the end that DJ is a fucking unstoppable beast in this match. He’s the smallest man on the mat, and frequently he successfully dominates both opponents single-handedly during the grace periods when Leo or Cameron tagged in and had an opportunity to double team him. Double team my ass! DJ is like a cornered badger, more vicious, tenacious, and dangerous against two opponents than he is against just one.

Epic clash between muscle hunk John Magnum and lithe scrapper, Phillip Aubrey

As the life of NK flashes before my eyes, it occurs to me that there have been plenty of moments of homoerotic wrestling epiphany. John Magnum and Phillip Aubrey’s nail biter comes to mind. Magnum’s only appearance on NK was epic. He’s made for full-on gay pro wrestling if ever a pornboy was. He’s magnum sized, and even sexier, he’s absolutely giddy with delight in every moment that he manages to subdue and humiliate Phillip. He laughs proudly at his own mastery. He flings himself across the mat and into every hold. He trash talks from start to finish.

Phillip Aubrey restrains momentarily restrains the beast.

And even then, Phillip Aubrey was equally satisfying, perhaps more so because I expected myself to be so enthralled with the big muscle boy Magnum. Phillip is astonishingly sexy on the mat. He bends like Gumby, and he seems to have a tolerance for pain that’s simply off the charts. He seriously, seriously dominated his much bigger and stronger opponent a whole lot, and indeed, I personally think he clearly ought to have been the decisive winner. Even that drama, the disputed call of the judges, makes the Magnum/Aubrey match fucking hot, hot, hot!

Spencer Reed obliterates John Stone in March 2009

There’ve been other NK matches and pornboy wrestlers of note, of course. Big, dominating Spencer Reed, sincere as hell Patrick Rouge, muscle ass babyface Dean Tucker, the terminator Tyler Saint…. the list is extensive. However, most of the names that I come up with as epitomizing my affection for NK come from deep, deep in the archives. Speaking of, I don’t know what happens to the NK archives. I’m not going to keep paying for a subscription to a site with nothing new, and I figure they’ll have to roll the archives into some other aspect of the kink.com universe, which other than NK simply hasn’t appealed to what it is that turns me on: wrestling.

Gavin Waters’ first introduction to Naked Kombat and Trent Diesel’s picture perfect cock.

Despite my ambivalence about the recent run of NK, I’m still sad to see them go down. For the years of homoerotic pornboy wrestling entertainment, the blood, sweat and tears (especially the sweat), and the many innovations in wrestling kink, I thank you, Naked Kombat. To the producers, technical staff, and especially the beautiful pornboys putting their bodies on the mat and their asses on the line week after week, you will be missed.

Trent Diesel oils up with Ryan Rockford

Now, I know of some stunning pornboys all oiled up with no place to wrestle. Surely, someone can help these boys out.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

wrestlebard1 Comment

Knowing that democracy can be addictive, I realize that some of you may be disappointed that I’m unilaterally selecting my favorite homoerotic wrestler of the month this month. 116 readers registered their votes for last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month in the first ever reader’s choice wrestler of the month here at neverland. To feed the democratic spirit and give you an opportunity have your voice heard, I’ll post a new poll for a reader’s choice award next week.

In the mean time, I’m returning to the one true through-line that connects all of the dots here at neverland: that which turns me on.  November saw a healthy, if not bumper crop of homoerotic wrestling new releases. Muscle hunk Jake Jenkins delightfully introduced “rookie” Eli Black to the high-impact, high-definition world of Rock Hard Wrestling. Expertly sadistic Jobe Zander introduced Jersey Shore rookie Derek Fox to every ball bashing maneuver conceivable in Can-Am’s Decrotchery 2.  Thunder’s Arena’s Eric Fury makes bubble-butted Uno hurt so good in bed with him in No Holds Barred 16. I’m also joining the chorus of Thunder’s fans almost giddy with lust over gigantic, gorgeous, muscle-butted rookie Boxxy, and in particular, I’m jonesin’ off of what he and bearded thighmaster, Rex do to me in Battle of the Scissors. BG East delivered an unexpected 0.2 iteration of catalog 89 in November, with fantastic performances from smoldering rookie Rafael Valmor and Blaine Janus in Undagear 18, as well as mind-blowing crushing from my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division, Lon Dumont, delivering an unquestionably “badder” expert Rookie Wrecking against handsome, hairy hunk Morgan Cruise.

This is a hot, hot field of worthy contenders for the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month! Several of these sexy athletes have already proven themselves by claiming titles among my favorites in the past, and even more inspiring, the field is astonishingly strong in seriously impressive debuts of extremely entertaining rookies who are instantly on my radar to keep my eye out for. But there can be only one homoerotic wrestler of the month (ignoring last March), and truth be told, there’s one wrestler in this impressive field who just can’t help himself but command my attention and recur repeatedly in my wrestling fantasies. Step aside, Aryx Quinn, because the new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

Both reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month and title holder
as my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division: Lon Dumont.
…BG East’s Lon Dumont.
Lon was the original holder of the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy), and he’s had a crushing, unflinching hold on that title as impressively as he squeezes every ounce of breath and will-power out of rookie Morgan Cruise. His appearance in Rookie Wreckers nearly made me miss a day of work. I somehow restrained myself from calling in sick when the match arrived, but I’ve blown a whole lot of time and a whole lot of body fluids on Lon’s detailed instructional one-on-one workshop on heel-wannabe Morgan.

Lon employs every one of his stunning muscles to wreck the rookie.
Regular readers know that I was instantly and overwhelmingly moved by Lon from the very first glimpse of him forcing big, sexy Eddy Rey to flex in Fantasymen 32.  In Rookie Wreckers, he’s back, now with a full head of hair and possessing even more astonishing fitness and muscle definition than we’ve ever seen from him before (and that’s saying a whole lot!). He’s absolutely sculpted. He’s ripped to shreds. His already competition-worthy abs are cut even deeper, and his legs are bigger. And despite my ambivalence about Lon’s report that he was growing his hair back, a full head of hair looks just fine on this superhuman specimen.
Professor Dumont is a hands-on type of instructor.
I’m prepared to climb into the ring and crush anyone who thinks he deserves to be president of the Lon Dumont fan club more than me. And it’s not just because of Lon’s smokin’ hot, award winning physique. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s wrestling that turns me on, and Lon’s wrestling is perfectly tuned to my tastes. Lon does to Morgan precisely what keeps me coming back for more from my homoerotic wrestling suppliers. He climbs into the ring supremely confident, even in the face of his bigger, furrier opponent. He lays out the story in simple detail: Morgan has arrived on the doorstep of BG East to be the next great heel, and The Boss has pulled in a favor to have Lon put the youngster through his paces to see what he’s got to back up his bravado. Lon always gives credit where credit is due, unreservedly appreciating Morgan’s big, hairy pecs that he is so, so proud to bounce in Lon’s face. And then Lon unleashes a crippling assault like a barrage of cruise missiles tearing the rookie apart joint by joint and limb by limb.
Morgan is a captive audience to Lon’s didactic delivery.
Lon is a patient teacher. There’s something incredibly hot about the calm, cool explanations that he gives to his pupil with each application of devastating humiliation, illustrating the marriage of art and science that is being an accomplished heel. Morgan is writhing in agony, clearly uncertain as to which end is up or where in the hell he is in the world from the expertly delivered barrage of punishment, while Lon is dispassionately delivering his “pointers” like he’s laying out a scientific proof. Lon’s cool, however, cracks just a bit. When he traps the big rookie helpless in the ropes, Lon generously gives the barely conscious rookie a front row seat to Lon’s mandatory bodybuilding poses (damn, I’d sell my firstborn to TicketMaster for that…). The point, Lon explains, is that Morgan’s rookie beef is laughable compared to the exquisitely crafted beauty and power of Lon’s competition-ready muscles. So if anyone is going to flex, if anyone has something to strut and crow about, it’s not some fresh-faced, green ROOKIE with VISIONS of SGT. SLAUGHTER!!!  It’s the proven talent, the weathered granite, the proportions and the skills of an indy wrestler with years under his belt and more tricks up his proverbial sleeve than Morgan has had birthdays.
Morgan squeezes some juices out of his bodybuilder tormentor.
The rookie eventually gets lucky and makes Lon suffer in a sensationally sexy series of bearhugs. Like the proven pro he is, Lon sells the taking of abuse every bit as beautifully as he dishes it out. But it’s Lon climbing back on top, flexing and squeezing, crushing and pounding, and pouring out wit and wisdom as unnecessary evidence that he’s smarter than your average bear, that supercharges my already deep reservoir of Lon Dumont fanaticism.
Lon glistens while Morgan withers.
There’s not an inch of this man’s body that doesn’t make me dizzy (including his perfectly packed trunks). There’s not a second of his tutorial on bewildered Morgan that doesn’t hold me riveted in my seat and sweating bullets. Lon Dumont makes me gasp. He makes me laugh. And more than any other of the very worthy nominees, he is without a doubt my homoerotic wrestler of the month.

The undisputed title holder.

Boys and Balls

wrestlebard1 Comment
I followed organized sports half-heartedly up until the moment that I came out. Prior to that, I tracked college football and basketball and the occasional professional football season. But it was mostly just a perceived obligation of masculinity. I never really cared about the stats or the standings. As soon as I felt liberated from the heterosexist hegemony that equates homophobic contact sports with male virility, I stopped pretending to care. Homoerotic wrestling aside, my interest in the world of sport is seriously weak.
Australian Rugby Player and Gay Rights Advocate, David Pocock 

My ignorance of the world of rugby is filling me with regret as I see headline stories of rugby hotties “coming out” as either gay or allies. Like this fucking muscle monster by the name of David Pocock. All of the juvenile comments to be made about his last name evaporate when I read that this red-headed beast is a seriously outspoken ally of The Gays.

David Pocock and his gargantuan arms.
Seems that Pocock has stated repeatedly and clearly that he’s not getting married until everyone in Australia, including its gay citizens, have that right. Hot damn! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, nothing, but nothing is sexier than a smoking hot muscle body paired with a visionary commitment to social justice.

David Pocock’s gorgeous ass and tree-trunk thighs

Well, nothing could be sexier, unless the aforementioned smoking hot muscle body paired with a visionary commitment to social justice was engaged in some nasty, ferocious, rules-be-damned wrestling. To the best of my knowledge (which is extremely limited), those ridiculously huge legs of David’s have not yet been used to their fullest potential: namely, crushing the skull of some lucky bastard in a forever-and-a-day face-to-crotch headscissors.

David Pocock meditating on social justice at the beach

David comes to my attention (thanks again, Towleroad), on the heels of my growing infatuation with Welsh rugby hunk, Gareth Thomas, coming out as an openly gay muscle beast.

Out Welsh rugby muscle beast, Thomas Gareth

Again, I say, look at the beef on those legs!!! Good God almighty…

Hairy rugby hunk and ally, Ben Cohen

And of course there’s hairy rugby hunk Ben Cohen who’s working full time combatting anti-gay bullying these days. Ben has already worked his way into a fan-inspired homoerotic wrestling match in my imagination, in which he crushes American footballer Tom Brady in a bone crunching hangman.

Rugby player and physique god, Nick Youngquest

And then there’s Australian rugby sexbomb, Nick Youngquest, who has also appeared in my homoerotic wrestling imagination. A collaborator helped me write Nick’s appearance in the Producer’s Ring, marking the beginning of the end of Andrew Stetson’s rise through the ranks of homoerotic wrestling producers in a locked door office mauling. Nick is, yet again, another rugby muscle stud happily committed to advocating for The Gays and, possibly even better, stripping naked to appear in gay rags and inspiring millions of boys’ wet dreams.

I realize that the world of macho sports, much less the world of professional rugby, is not suddenly rushing to embrace the gays. The fact that these rugby gods being openly gay or gay positive is headline news seems to most certainly imply that they are the exception, rather than the rule. Still, I’m suddenly considering whether ore not I need to give my local gay rugby club a new look. These boys are definitely inspiring me to give team sports a second glance.

All Things

wrestlebard1 Comment
Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month and people’s choice:
Aryx Quinn
Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Aryx Quinn, came about his title in a completely unique fashion. Aryx is the first wrestler to claim the crown by a popular vote. It was a dog fight between Aryx and one of his opponents in Can-Am’s Pro Tagteam Sex Battle 1, Landon Mycles (aka Marcus Mojo), but Aryx fans pounded out a victory for him, much like Aryx so often pounds a doggie-style victory fuck over his homoerotic wrestling opponents. 
Aryx yanks Brad Rochelle up by the hair, following orders in
BG East’s Contract 3.
I believe that my first introduction to Aryx Quinn was his Contract bout with the recently resurrected muscle jobber extraordinaire, Brad Rochelle. Kid Leopard himself gave Aryx his marching orders via a checklist of humiliating abuse to heap on sweetly suffering Brad. Aryx wakes the sleeping dragon, foreshadowing the eventual heel turn Brad is destined to make once he’s been beaten low enough. However, with some in-person tutorial, Aryx climbs back to his feet and double-teams the pale boy in white, learning at the feet of The Boss himself.
Aryx inspecting his prey in BG East’s Demolition 7.

Aryx has been bringing the erotic in homoerotic wrestling for a long time. Even when his matches don’t conclude with a literal victory fuck, Aryx leaves no doubt that he’s here to prove himself as a sexual gladiator, a practitioner in the arts of wrestling domination turned erotic foreplay. He’s put on muscle mass over time. He may not be quite the lovely, lean twink package harboring a larger than life bruiser heel that he once was, but he has consistently been a sculpted, smooth, high-topped work of art that makes the revelation that he also has an extensive career as porn-star Tristan Baldwin completely unsurprising.

Aryx’ head looks like it’s ready to pop off in BBW’s hands in
BG East’s Catch Weight 1.

Aryx has wrestled an extremely impressive 26 matches so far for BG East.  In addition to Brad Rochelle, Aryx has faced some BG East wrestlers that I count among the pantheon of timeless homoerotic wrestling greats. He’s been brutalized by Brooklyn Bodywrecker. Joe Mazetti nearly ripped Aryx sweet, tight pecs right off his rib cage. In a fantasy match made in heaven, he ran into the highly technically proficient buzzsaw of rockin’ gorgeous former tag team partner, Nick Archer.

Beefy Joe Mazetti rips Aryx apart in BG East’s Hunkbash 9.

In perhaps a case of art imitating life (or vice versa… I honestly can’t tell), something appeared to go terribly, terribly wrong in Aryx astonishingly prolific relationship with BG East. One moment, he appeared to be The Boss’ it-boy, showing up in every other catalog like daddy’s favorite son, and the next moment, he found himself getting a nasty beatdown at the hands of his former mentor and wrestling tutor.

The Boss applies a Kiss of Death on Aryx before annointing
Eddy Rey his replacement boytoy in Leopard’s Lair 3.

When Aryx faced off against the bass-voiced, muscled beauty of Eddy Rey, he apparently didn’t realize that The Boss was ready to trade up for a new it-boy who can speak Portuguese. Aryx finally conquers sweet, sexy Eddy only to find himself face to face with Kid Leopard who, with a smile, claws Aryx balls and opens up an astonishing can of whoop ass on Aryx with Eddy’s assistance. Putting Aryx out with that “Kiss of Death” that Aryx has made such hay with over the years, The Boss passes the torch with a literal kiss on the mouth and stroke of the crotch of hardbodied hottie, Eddy.

Turncoat Aryx assess the state of the competition at
Can-Am.

Kayfabe, right? The typical, delightful, arousing melodrama of professional wrestling with a homoerotic twist that keeps you and me tuning in over and over, right? Well shortly thereafter, Aryx busts into the end of Rusty Stevens‘ victory fuck over twice-lucky Brian Bodine to call out Rusty as a Can-Am convert. I’ve commented on this scene at least a couple of times before, but the image of Rusty and Aryx pacing like predators around the fallen prey of Brian’s motionless, naked body is possibly the most erotic homoerotic wrestling morsel to not include any actual wrestling I’ve ever seen. They trade verbal barbs. Aryx sports all Can-Am gear as he trash-talks BG East and says he’s set his sights on the big leagues of Can-Am. Rusty’s sculpted, naked body is pumped and primed from defeating and fucking Brian, his veiny, gorgeous cock still standing at attention and seemingly reinvigorated by the scent of Aryx arrival and schoolyard challenge.

When Aryx and Rusty consummated this courtship in Arena 2, the opening banter once again made me explosively happy before either hot, hard stud had even laid a finger on one another. East Coast swagger Aryx, however, is hands-down the indisputable loser of the opening salvo of insults, as razor-witted Rusty literally leaves Aryx stammering. The mat action, however, is not nearly so one-sided. Aryx gets every ounce as down and dirty as Can-Am & Naked Kombat veteran Rusty, and he eventually secures a decisive final fall victory before putting Rusty out cold with that very same “Kiss of Death.” Rusty awakens even as Aryx is sliding his lubricated cock pre-emptively between the muscled beauty of Rusty’s glutes, moments before he’s fucking his astonished opponent. In what may be the most innovative maneuver I’ve ever seen, Rusty finds himself on top, bouncing on Aryx rod. Slowly, with expert skill, Rusty spins around to face his fucker, leans forward to drape his body over top of Aryx, and slowly, before Aryx realizes what’s happening, Rusty slaps on a “Kiss of Death” of his own, knocking Aryx out cold while still squeezing Aryx cock tightly inside! Rusty returns the favor of initiating a post-knockout fuck before Aryx has quite returned to his senses, and equilibrium is eventually returned to the universe.

Aryx surfboards sweetly suffering Rio Garza for BG East’s
Bad Boys 1.

Aryx, now a “Can-Am exclusive,” apparently still had an extensive body of work already in the can and as yet unreleased back in Boston, however. BG East has continued to drop new matches with Aryx in them, even while Aryx was trash-talking his former employers on camera. This is where I found myself feeling the drama a little personally (which, I suppose, is evidence of the skill of the performer). I’ve criticized the odd insistence of competing wrestling companies pairing Aryx with some of the very same wrestlers. He’s hot beatdown of Rio Garza in BG Bad Boys 1 came out in October 2009. Six months later, Can-Am released Aryx facing off with, you guessed it, beautiful Rio Garza in Arena 3. Bad Boys has the two meeting in the ring, where Arena is on the mat, but the repetition of some of the very same holds applied between the very same wrestlers just leaves me questioning what the purpose of all of this is.

Aryx surfboards sweetly suffering Rio Garza for Can-Am’s Arena 3.

Happily, it seems that Can-Am is putting Aryx and most of the former BG East wrestlers to more novel use recently.  I’ve always associated Can-Am with being as much about wrestling porn as about homoerotic wrestling (fine distinction, I know), and Aryx/Tristan bringing both a long wrestling resume and a readiness to fuck and be fucked on camera makes such good sense at Can-Am.

Aryx loves owning a hard jobber, as in Can-Am’s
Pro Tagteam Sex Battle 1
I’ve been a big, big fan of the Pro Sex Fight series that Can-Am has been producing lately, bringing hot, explicitly erotic wrestling into the ring. The post victory fucks that are part of every script don’t exactly speak to me as a wrestling fetishist, but I suppose that they are powerfully inspiring to folks who are more equal parts porn and wrestling connoisseurs. But I do very much enjoy the explicitly sexual part of the Pro Sex Fight story lines, such as when Aryx cannot help himself but stroke the rippled muscles of Landon Mycles’ torso on his way to a tag team crushing of Landon and his jobber partner. This seems to me to be where Aryx shines brightest, and why he earned my nomination for you, dear readers, to eventually select him as this month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month. Aryx continues to be a nasty, proficient, innovative, sexy-as-hell homoerotic wrestler making me believe that pro ring arena that Can-Am has built is worth the cost of construction.  Aryx continues to snarl and snap, crush and devour, possess his opponents psychologically and physically, and draw a straight/gay line between the athleticism and artistry of wrestling and explicit homoeroticism.

Brendan Cage sets him up, and Aryx knocks him back in Can-Am’s Brutal Battle.
I’ve long had fantasies of pro wrestling turned explicitly sexual as a component of the wrestling drama itself, and Aryx has been living out that fantasy in his recent Can-Am work. His double team work with eventual tag team partner, hunky muscle stud Brendan Cage, is a prime example. Lucky, lucky, lucky loser Max Munoz is racked helplessly across Brendan’s back, and Aryx steps in to yank down Max’s trunks, stroke him hard and suck on his cock as he’s captured. Yes. Yes. Yes. As long as the wrestling doesn’t get lost in the sex (at which point, I rewind), wrestling as sex as wrestling as sex is awesomely entertaining and provocative for me. And Aryx is, unquestionably, one of the pillars who makes this finer blend of sex and wrestling work at Can-Am.
Aryx “wins” Can-Am’s Hollywood Fight Club 3

I’m still a little turned off by the BG East bashing that Aryx and his handlers chose to include in his introduction to Can-Am. I’m sure it’s all about the bottom line, deciding where to leverage the pathos, where to “compete” at the meta level, how much porn, wrestling, eroticism, athleticism, and drama to include in each company’s recipe. Aryx’ work in Pro Sex Fights, even though he’s obviously employing many of the tricks he learned on the East Coast, seems to me to be bringing something new, creative, and powerfully provocative of my homoerotic wrestling kink tastes. And for that, I’m happy to have Aryx Quinn as our reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

I Smell Sex and Candy

wrestlebard1 Comment
BG East’s Rafael Valmor
If there’s one thing the world could use more of, it’s a dark, curly haired, smolderingly sexy, hot, lean, Latin heart throb with a serious case of wrestling kink named Rafael. Rafael Valmor fills a need in me to see someone absolutely rank with sexual energy make a smokin’ hot rookie debut bringing every ounce of all-in homoerotic wrestling to the mat.

Sadly, I can’t actually smell the scene of rookie Rafael standing crotch-to-crotch and nose to nose as he faces off with Blaine Janus in Undagear 18, but I’m 100% convinced that the air is thick with the musk of hot, eager bodies already primed with sweat from an anticipatory pump of aroused adrenaline rushing through them as a result of both the fight and the fuck instincts.

Both Blaine and Rafael look like they’re famished from start to finish in this match up. I swear you can watch them swallow hard as they’re quite literally salivating, soaking in the sight of each other’s truly gorgeous bodies.  Blaine is absolutely desperate to taste Rafael’s lips, which I have no trouble at all understanding why. Over and over, the pale, blond veteran with a bodacious butt attempts (unsuccessfully) to exploit every advantage to swoop in and lock lips with the delicious rookie. Blaine is also clearly aching to feel every inch of Rafael’s body. He strokes the rookie’s crotch. He spreads his fingers wide and digs his fingertips into Rafael’s tight, athletic ass, even as the dark, curly haired hottie is bearhugging him and sending him crashing into the mat room walls.

There are plenty of times when I’m watching homoerotic wrestling and it occurs to me that the wrestlers are merely going through the motions. Sometimes, homoerotic wrestling, like porn itself, appears to be an obligatory stringing together of moves and half-heartedly recited lines (“How does that feel?”) that leave me fairly convinced that the boys are not only not into it themselves, but they aren’t particularly invested in helping me get into it either. Rafael’s tangle with Blaine is the opposite of that scenario. I believe from about 2.5 seconds after the scene opens to the very last millisecond of the mat tussle that these boys are hot for each other and aroused harder and harder as the hard fought wrestling battle heats up like a pot slowly rising to a boil.

I’ve also noticed (or at least, I’ve had the impression) that a good share of the rookies making their debuts in homoerotic wrestling are just a little reticent to throw themselves into the deep end. Sometimes, there’s a sense that a rookie intellectually knows that his task is to ride the homoerotic wrestling train, to sell not only the battle for domination, but also to sell the carnal, primal delight of controlling, feeling, and possessing his opponent’s body. But despite “knowing” this, it takes some rookies a while to really live into it. At times, rookies seem too ready to abandon a dominating hold, too ready to pass up the opportunity to humiliate, to expose, to grab and squeeze and express joy in exploiting their opponents’ vulnerabilities. Again, Rafael is not that rookie. He’s fucking loving this.

Rafael and Blaine are both stunning to watch. They’re intensely present, fully engaged in the 1-on-1 underwear battle to control each other. They work for each hold, each submission, every second on top like it matters to them every ounce as much as it matters to me. They’re coated in sweat, gasping for air, riding the rise and fall of tempers, pounding the mat in frustrated humiliation, and quite obviously experiencing the roaring engine of two libidos in warp drive. Again, I can’t literally smell it, but their exhausted, soaked bodies sliding across one another, as a very inspiring rookie plants his lips across his opponent’s lips on his own terms, fills my nostrils with the smell of homoerotic wrestling lusts. This hits the very center of the bullseye for me. Hope to see more of Rafael Valmor (in at least two meanings of that phrase) soon!

Still Kickin’

wrestlebard1 Comment
Kieran Dunne’s gorgeous narrow waist about to be stomped by
rookie Guido Tori – BG East’s Ring Rookies 1 

Thanks again to those of you inquiring about my well-being in my absence from posting for several days. No major problems to report. I was just, yet again, traveling for work and crazy busy along the way. Despite my inactivity around here, I’m still alive and kickin‘.

Jayden Mayne softens up big boy Trent Blayze with a boot to the back –
BG East’s Ringwars 19

I learned this summer about guys particularly turned on with trampling, stomping, and kicking. This was a new concept to me, really. I think the dominating, sadistic, overpowering aspect of trampling is hot, of course. But I typically find myself attending more to the long held holds: the over-the-knee backbreakers, the bearhugs, the scissors, the abdominal stretches. I usually think of stomps as more like the explanation points at the end of homoerotic wrestling poetry stanzas, rather than the meat of the matter.

Nikoli Bakov drives an impressive strike to Tom Flex’s
muscled back in Can-Am’s 2-on-1 Grudge Match

But I’m told that there are die-hard trampling fans whose fondest fetish is the kick to the back, the stomp to the gut, the boot to the crotch. The moments that rock some of us the hardest involve a swift kick to a vulnerable hunk’s battered body.

Psycho Capone takes a boot to a naked Dynamo Dean –
BG East’s Hard Pros 2

Just knowing that there are those of us with an eye for trampling has had the effect of making me turned on a couple of notches more when I see it in my homoerotic wrestling fare. I’m feeling it. The extra dose of humiliation, the gratuitous delivery of suffering, the tenderizing of a once-invulnerable stud to soften him up to be devoured whole… some hot stomping can take my breath away these days.

Ripped Rio Garza works out some frustration with the heel of his boot
stomping Jobe Zander’s masterpiece – Can-Am’s Rio’s Revenge

I suppose we could all be happily consuming our favorite homoerotic wrestling in the privacy of our own fantasies, but this opportunity to cross-pollinate our particular tastes is an aspect of blogging and discussing our shared fetish that I enjoy so much. To have my eye drawn, my anticipation heightened, my senses tuned to something new to inspire my appreciation of erotic wrestling is a beautiful part of sharing this corner of the virtual homoerotic wrestling with so many of you. Hopefully, I’ll be back to a bit more regular posting in the coming weeks. I’ve missed our little chats!

Coincidences

wrestlebard2 Comments
Have you noticed how in Hollywood movies it’s a moral imperative to believe in the supernatural? I keep hearing the words, “I don’t believe in coincidences” in movies and on television lately. The implication seems to always be that there’s some divine hand moving the universe, lining up otherwise random events into non-coincidental patterns. Well, frankly, I do believe in coincidences. That army of monkeys will, indeed, one day hammer out the complete works of Shakespeare by sheer chance. I’m okay with that.  That’s not to suggest, however, that I don’t like musing on a notable coincidence when it falls in my lap.
Kid Leopard planting a Tree of Woe for Sean Cannon
in BG East’s Superbouts 2
Take, for instance, the third time in as many days that the “tree of woe” has come up in three entirely unrelated conversations I’ve been part of.  Three different homoerotic wrestling fans raised the topic of how hot the tree of woe scenario is. The only reason I really know much about it, as such, is from a series of comments on Rants, Roids & Rasslin’ a while back, in which folks were dissecting a panel from one of RR&R’s wrestling comics. “Tree of woe” is apparently the moniker for that precarious situation when a wrestler discovers himself hanging upside down from the corner turnbuckle, completely vulnerable to a humiliating and devastating attack.
BG East’s Brooklyn Bodywrecker exploiting an opponent’s vulnerability.
It seems to me that there’s more than just a little element of bondage, with the poor catcher’s ankles locked and laced underneath the supports tying the turnbuckle to the ring post. A knee to the gut, a boot to the face… the options appear to be endless. Yes, and hot…
Rock Hard Wrestling’s Lucas Payne lives up to his name in Austin Cooper’s
Tree of Woe

The position also offers an opportunity to see a hot muscle boy stretched out and in jeopardy. Hot strong bodies are the best subjects with which to construct a tree of woe, it seems to me. The mechanics probably work best with a strong, compact, relatively limber body. The aesthetics also work best that way, too, I think.

Cole Cassidy goes to work on Kevin Lee in BG’s Bad Boys

Accomplished master in the fine arts of sadistic ring punishment, Cole Cassidy made the most of bewildered Kevin Lee trapped in his tree of woe.

Cole uses those gorgeous muscles to crush Kevin’s head and midsection.

A bearhug and headscissors combination on Kevin illustrates some of the more creative opportunities that a tree of woe offers to an innovative heel.

Cole leans in real good, adding every ounce of leverage to crush Kevin’s balls.

Of course, any tree of woe that fails to include crotch torture is a waste. Cole is never, ever one to waste anything. A long, slow elbow driven crushing into Kevin’s balls softens him up.

Cole claws Kevin’s crotch and enjoys watching the agony.
Cole latching on a ball claw, with his freakishly fantastic forearms bulging like a cartoon superhero is incredibly erotic.
Cole’s boots and knees tenderize his suspended opponent.

And of course some nasty stomps to Kevin’s… well, to Kevin’s everything, shows why a tree of woe is a blank canvas in the hands of a true artist, at least when Cole is working his magic.

BG East’s Dante Rosetti (I think) uses his head.

I’m on the record many times over as completely partial to ring wrestling, and the tree of woe illustrates just one of the many reasons why ring wrestling cranks my kink harder than just about any other context. The opportunities to use the architecture, to capitalize on the structure, to exploit the parts of the ring that stretch as well as those that don’t, all contribute to making ring wrestling my wrestling kink of choice.

At long, long last, Rio Garza pays it back against Jobe Zander in
Can-Am’s Rio’s Revenge

So I completely believe that three different people raising the topic of the tree of woe in as many days is 100% coincidence. I’m sure it’s randomness, and I don’t feel the need to read into the coincidence some guiding, invisible hand that wants me to appreciate deeper the erotic potential of corner abuse. That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t enjoy riding the tide and getting a kinked kick out of where it takes me.

Rock Hard Wrestling’s Trent Novak treats Austin Cooper to a Tree of Woe beatdown

Jake Jenkins’ House

wrestlebard1 Comment
Eli Black receives the customary welcome to Jake Jenkins’ House
I completely concur with Joe when he concludes that when it comes to Jake Jenkins’ newest release on Rock Hard Wrestling, “This is a match that makes my blood surge.” Of course, Jake has never failed to make my blood surge. Standing perfectly still, this man makes me shift in my seat. When he climbs into the wrestling ring, struts around a bit, and then drop kicks and slams the hell out of his opponents, I’m reminded why he’s both a former homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts and why he’s currently muscling his way through a highly competitive pack non-pornboys vying to break into my reigning favorites.
Eli is lean, mean and looking to send a message by destroying Jake in his debut with RHW.
Jake’s opponent is 5’7″, 140 pound “rookie” Eli Black. Eli gets the rookie card only because this is his first appearance on RHW. As far as I can tell, it’s his first appearance in the world of aboveground/underground wrestling for a gay audience (please do correct me if I’m wrong!). I was prepared to be underwhelmed by Eli and have eyes for no one other than Jake, but as is often the case (and always delightful), I was surprised that the astonishingly lean, blond battler gets my heart pumping as well. Eli appears completely overwhelmed and outmatched in the opening salvo, but when Jake flashes a double bicep and taunts him, he awakens a fierce fighter in the rookie. With Jake still in mid pose, Eli shoulder tackles the cocky stud, lifting him off his feet and spearing him violently to the mat.
Two distinctly different body types, but all rock hard muscle on both.

Eli is all muscle. Jake is too, of course, but they wear their amazingly fit muscles very differently. Eli is incredibly lean. He unquestionably qualifies as “rock hard,” but it’s an entirely different aesthetic than Jake’s thick, powerful bulges in all those beautiful places. Despite Eli’s leanness, however, one aspect of his amazingly trained body sticks out – that amazingly hot beefy ass!  
Eli makes a wish to become the next RHW phenom.
Eli’s ring presence also jumps out at me as something notable, impressive, and not quite “rookie” quality.  He tells his story with skill that exponentiates his raw, lean sexiness. He even takes the 2nd fall with an fantastically hot triangle choke hold. The degree of hot wrestling kink in this submission is comprised of equal parts gorgeous salesmanship from both wrestlers, the extremely erotic positioning of Jake’s face stuffed high up between Eli’s thighs, and Eli’s aggressive, taunting crowing as he’s in such complete control of his muscle stud opponent. “Tap!” he barks down domineeringly into Jake’s purple-hued face. “I’m the champ now! My turn to shine! Jake Jenkins is OLD NEWS!!!” When Jake does, indeed, submit breathlessly, Eli’s flexing victory lap around the ring is an incredible, detailed, stunning display of human anatomy. 
Jake Jenkins’ living large in Jake Jenkins’ house.

As Joe suggests, however, at RHW, Jake is increasingly thrilling as a coldly calculating sadistic heel. While Eli has an arsenal that no “rookie” ever possessed, the bundle of beautifully bulging muscles that is Jake Jenkins simply doesn’t stay down for long. In round 3, he has Eli gasping for air and soaked in sweat, back to being outmuscled and outmaneuvered. He snaps on a tit-for-tat triangle choke, but just as Eli looks like he’s about to concede, Jake lets him go (as in, he releases the hold and then instantly drags his nearly defenseless opponent back up to his feet for more torture).  He humiliates Eli with a nasty wrist lock, demanding that the blond cry “mercy,” even as Jake steps on his head, crushing Eli’s face into the mat with a sadistic smile.  It’s like the sheen of sweat coating Jake’s gorgeous pecs serves to lubricate his momentum as he plows from one crushing, torturous hold to the next. His tantalizingly long-held Boston crab, butt to beautiful butt, is some of the most beautiful sculpture on the planet.  When Jake flings the dumbfounded rookie over the top rope and into the shadows of the RHW set, I can’t always make out what he’s saying, but Jake continues to snarl contempt down upon Eli as the rookie slowly peels himself off the concrete only to find himself slammed back inside the ring. The final chapter of this entertaining 27 minutes is all about Jake’s sadism. “I wanna hear you screamin’,” he repeats calmly, over and over as he locks the rookie up in one debilitating hold after another.

“Don’t come in my ring,” Jake says with a smirk as he looks at the withered rookie. “This is Jake Jenkins’ house, buddy!”

Picking Up the Remote… Again

wrestlebard3 Comments

What the fuck? Sorry about my crass language, but again: what the fuck? Less than a year after the morning “news” landscape brightened considerably with the installment of a blond and blue eyed, 6’3″ hunk with powerful arms and big, beautiful pecs behind the anchor desk of The Early Show, latest scoop is that Chris Wragge is out.

Despite his shirtless appearance training for the triathalon, Wragge gets dunked.

This isn’t sending me into the spiral of despair and existential angst that Good Morning, America’s decision to turn their backs on Chris Cuomo did.  There’s a definite hierarchy in my lustful fanaticism for my morning cup of Chris, and Wragge comes in second place behind a certain curly headed Italian with a fondness for fishing shirtless.

Chris Cuomo illustrates while he’s still the hottest newsman getting no respect.

However, the rumor is that CBS has decided to replace Wragge with Charlie Rose and Gayle King.

What. The. Fuck?

And now I return to my primary question of the day: what the fuck!? Now, some toothy, nerdy hunkiness from adorable lisper Jeff Glor, and the sincerity of even nerdier West Coast blond pretty boy correspondent Ben Tracey are legitimately entertaining side shows. But replace the sheer hunky sexual magnetism of Chris Wragge with either Charlie Rose or Gayle King and the message couldn’t be clearer.

Totally hot back-up singer, but I don’t think Jeff Glor can be the headline attraction for this audience of one.

I am NOT the demographic that CBS is aiming for. I suppose it’s back to Good Morning, America to relive 18 year old fantasies of meeting George Stephanopoulos in a wrestling ring. Then again, there are rumors that the gorgeous diminutive Greek may be on the way out as well! But of course there’s the tragically rare treat of seeing Chris Cuomo doing a guest bit as “legal analyst”on GMA, though it seems like he and Dan Abrams are due for a no-holds-barred loser-leaves-town beat down to once and for all settle whose legal briefs are on top at ABC.

Dan Abrams has both attracted and repelled me ever since O.J. introduced him to the world.

There is clearly no shortage of hunky newsmen who could give drowsy heads a welcome dose of adrenaline in the mornings. The obstinate refusal of the news outlets to dangle some tasty meat to get our hearts pumping is making me contemplate switching to HGTV for my morning devotions. Sure, maybe I won’t be as well informed about world events (though let’s not overestimate the morning news programs for their capacity to accomplish that), but at least I’ll be happy and eager to wake up again.