Artistic Visions

Today I posted a story at Sidelineland, telling the fictional story of a homoerotic wrestling confrontation between Aussies Hugh Jackman and Daniel Goddard.  It was co-written by me and Shodaime, and we’re awfully pleased with it, if we do say so ourselves.

Daniel Goddard was Shodaime’s must-have!
However, for me the most fascinating piece of the story “Gold Coast” is about the journey to get it written.  Shodaime approached me with the nugget of an idea.  It was hot and full of potential. He’s a major Daniel Goddard fan, so Daniel’s role was a no-brainer.  But I should have known that this was going to be an atypical writing project for me when we were already having to negotiate over who Daniel’s opponent would be.  We auditioned several potential hunks, with Shodaime pulling one way and me pushing another.  Daniel Goddard probably wouldn’t have been my first choice to star in this scenario, and Hugh Jackman certainly wasn’t Shodaime’s first choice, but we came to an amiable compromise and proceeded.
Bard’s boy for any occasion: Hugh Jackman
I think this project took right around 10 months, on and off, to complete! Much of that duration was spent with a couple of major life transitions for me completely distracting me from the task at hand.  Getting a knew job and moving across the country sort of puts a lot of other stuff on the backburner, and Shodaime was totally upstanding and understanding about my part of the long haul to get this piece written.
Daniel’s hot bod spends a good deal of time on his back in this match
But the creative process itself, I have to say, was a marathon wrestling match all on its own! It wasn’t as if Shodaime and I were ever just on totally different pages.  If that were the case, we might have just called the project quits and went our separate ways.  No, the creative differences were typically shades of gray rather than black or white.  There was my tunnel-visioned focus on a particular story arc.  There was Shodaime’s (some might say) obsession with selecting just the right visual aids to accompany the text (seriously there are nearly 60 pics embedded in this baby!!!).
Hugh makes sure that this is a rip ‘n strip match
I didn’t tell Shodaime this (until now), but there were a couple of times he sent me back suggested revisions to the storyline that nearly made me call the whole thing off.  But again, it wasn’t because his suggestions were so out of left field.  It was just that seemingly every step required an arm wrestling match between us to sort out moment by moment what would transpire when you get Daniel Goddard and his Beastmaster-physique into a professional wrestling ring with Hugh Jackman and his Wolverine-physique, piss them both off really royally, and lock the doors.
Daniel has some fun with Hugh’s power packed physique and raging ego
I’m thrilled to report that we finished the project and have both agreed on the precise format and details which I posted to the Sidelineland group this morning.  While this is technically “celebrity homoerotic wrestling” and thus might seemingly qualify for the Producer’s Ring group, I was adamant that it didn’t fit the Producer’s Ring universe.  Those familiar with the genre will note that never, ever in the Producer’s Ring will you read about a film producer as weak, anxious, or physically out of shape as appears in Gold Coast (hell, my producer’s are always fitness models!).
Hugh wipes something sticky off his lower lip
But as is always the case with co-authoring, this story pushed me to see things differently, to share a vision with another wrestling kink fanatic, and to wrestle this match to the mat.  Shodaime, it was without a doubt a pain in the ass working with you… and I’m incredibly glad that we did it!

Year in Review – 5th Favorite Moment of 2011

My opportunities to write for fun were few and far between in 2011. As I look back, that makes what modest productivity I did have that much more of a highlight for me.

Joe Manganiello inspired so many erotic imaginations this year!

The hot and inspired imagination of collaborator Metellus kept me on task when I had the time to write homoerotic fiction. Together, we sketched out even more matches than I managed to complete. But I’m quite proud of the work we did complete together this year, including a tag team match in the Producer’s Ring between the team of Gerard Butler and Henry Cavill facing the monsters of True Blood represented by Mechad Brooks and phenom Joe Manganiello. Joe is nearly worthy of being a highlight of 2011 all his own, but it’s the image of him flat on his back, conquered, with Henry Cavill working out a victory load over top of big Joe’s mountainous pecs that stands out in particular for me.

My choice to pound Taylor into the mat?
Hugh Jackman

That tag team match was a follow up to Joe’s debut in the Producer’s Ring, appearing at the very end of 2010 in the Werewolf Rumble, a three-way free-for-all in which he came out victorious over both Taylor Lautner and Russell Tovey. There was groundswell of reader demand to also see Taylor get his 1-on-1 initiation in the Producer’s Ring after that. It took me months and months of pecking away at it in spare moments, but I finally pieced together a Focus Group loser-gets-fucked match with returning fantasy man, Hugh Jackman.  I was awfully pleased, both just to complete the project and with the particular manner in which Hugh “welcomes” hot piece of ass, Taylor, to the big leagues.

Mateus Verdelho is ready for some back alley action.

Another Metellus collaboration resulted in the first of what I hope will be a series of stories in the Producer’s Ring under the title Global Cooperation. It’s a bar fight, really, but in the homoerotic wrestling universe in my imagination, every contention is settled by hot, sweaty, hard wrestling. In this case, the Secretarial Pool is introduced to some of the executive assistants from corporate competitors in the cut throat world of the entertainment industrial complex.  Refined David Gandy and hunky Noah  Mills let off some after-work steam all over the hot, raw bodies of Mateus Verdelho and Tyler McPeak. There are stories yet to be written, hopefully soon, to see more of all four of these hot, hot hunks!

Spike makes his second appearance in the ring in
Brothers in Arms Chapter 5

I managed to get out 2 new chapters in the superhero series “Brothers in Arms” over in Sidelineland. That’s another reader request from way back that has taken on a life of its own and made me very happy with the way the series is unfolding. Both original characters, brothers Hank and Brett, are finally enjoying both success in competition and a satisfying sex life. I have a few more chapters sketched out that I hope to see hit the page before 2012 is over with.

The Former Champ, Mickey:
Shane’s new partner?

In 2011 I received a rather hot and provocative proposal from a reader who sent me the first half of a match he’d written, challenging me to write the second half and climax. I love the novelty of this particular form of a collaboration so much that I managed a third installment for Sidelineland, which itself is still waiting for a part 2 to be written. Poor hunky Shane got in way over his head from the moment he hatched his plan to break into the world of local professional wrestling by calling in a favor from his old high school “buddy.” Hot, savvy little hardbody Mikey gives Shane his first taste of victory in the ring, but it’s the High Rollers club confrontation to come, in which wealthy fans pay to see the action up close and much more intimate, that’s still to be written.

Ripped model Cobus Jonker has a secret fantasy:
becoming a homoerotic wrestling heel!

Metellus also was the brains of the operation in getting word and picture to paper for a BG East fantasy match for Sidelineland in which rookie heel hopeful Cobus nearly manages to upend and unmask the infamous stud heel extraordinaire, Enforcer. Things don’t quite go Cobus’ way, but his debut was enough to raise some eyebrows from the powers-that-be. Could another Cobus match see the light of day in 2012?

Allusions to Slater

My final match of 2011 was one of those that consumes me. The concept for Cock of the Walk grew like a seed in my mind, quickly sprouting, taking root, and growing out of control until I dropped it fully formed in Sidelineland. The idea was an homage to Naked Kombat (RIP), featuring pornboy muscle hunks in submission ring wrestling. The first hot, hung hunk to give up is forced to endure not only the jeering of the crowd, but a post-match sexual humiliation at the hands of both his victor and the victorious manager. As so often happens in my imagination, maturity and grit conquer youthful cockiness, as Latino hunk Paolo beats the odds and fucks senseless the young, black muscle freak Slater.

New readers may not realize that my writing homoerotic wrestling fiction actually pre-dates neverland, and in many ways its at the heart of what draws me to keep this little blog engine chugging along. While I didn’t get to write as much this year, as I look back, many of my favorite moments have come from getting back to basics, letting my wrestling kink imagination fly, and sharing what turns me on. For everywhere my imagination takes me and all the countless hours of erotic stimulation in provides, I’m happy to celebrate some fine, satisfying moments in fiction this year. Cheers!

Life Imitating Art Imitating Life…

Almost exactly 1 week after I posted my latest fictional homoerotic wrestling match, in which Hugh Jackman unloads a can of whoopass (and just unloads) on babybadboy wannabe Taylor Lautner, Hugh Jackman apparently appeared on WWE and unloaded a punch onto some bleach blond WWE boy in “real” life!

My imagination has been casting Hugh in wrestling action for a couple of years now, but I honestly never imagined that the Aussie would ever actually appear ringside and get in the action. Apparently the whole thing, including the PR stunt afterward in which the bleach blond boy reported that Hugh had fractured his jaw, was one massive product placement for Hugh’s new big screen release, Real Steel. The premise, I gather, is that Hugh character is a washed up boxer who ends up training a robot boxer in the sci fi world of the future.  It’s a kid-buddy movie with a cheesy premise and lots of scripted pseudo-violence… therefore there was no better situation in which to drop the product placement than WWE.

Whatever my ambivalence about WWE and mainstream straight pro wrestling, I’m completely stoked by Hugh being game to appear in a high profile wrestling venue in the pursuit of its promotional value. Who do I need to fuck to get Hugh’s next movie to feature him as a male stripper recruited into the world of underground gay wrestling videos, in which he gets his ass kicked (a lot!) early on, but he perseveres in the biz until he’s built legitimate wrestling credibility and does a major heel turn into a seriously sadistic, ball bashing bastard who learns to seriously love destroying an opponent and then working out a geyser of passion across his opponent’s beaten body?

Cause that most excellent movie concept would REQUIRE an appearance in the next homoerotic wrestling video in order to promote the flick to its true audience (you and I). I’m committing myself here and now to see that movie in the theaters at least 10 times, and then buy two copies of the DVD release. Who’s with me?

Short of that, the sight of ripped hard hunk Hugh in the ring beside an overtanned wrestling hottie will almost certainly inspire another appearance of Hugh in my homoerotic wrestling imagination!
Do not let it be said that I don’t follow through on my promises. Okay, well, so I’m sure there are promises that, it could be said that I’ve not followed through on. But I’m happy to point to this latest evidence that I do have the capacity to follow through. It was the middle of December when I posted the Werewolf Rumble in the Producer’s Ring, detailing the fictional three-way homoerotic wrestling match between werewolf heart throbs Joe Manganiello, Russell Tovey, and Taylor Lautner. Almost instantly there were calls from several regular readers registering their desire (to put it diplomatically) for Taylor to appear in a 1-on-1 match. Oh, and yeah, they were also pretty unanimous that Taylor’ hot, tight ass ought to be on the line.
So it took me quite a while, but I’ve just posted what I’ve referred to in the Producer’s Ring group as Taylor’s first big boy match. I’ve mentioned to the chorus pulling for another Taylor match that, curiously I’ll admit, I’m not a huge fan of his. I can clearly see the appeal, of course. He bulked up to a freakish level while still jailbait. A washboard 8-pack, defined pecs, broad shoulders and veiny biceps are typically a formula for capturing my homoerotic wrestling imagination. All that said, there’s just something that doesn’t entirely inspire me. So the concept of me writing a homoerotic wrestling match for him was destined for two things: 1) it was going to take me a long time to complete as my attention wandered over the intervening months, and 2) Taylor’s sweet ass was most certainly going to be in serious jeopardy. A major stumbling block to getting off the dime on this text was deciding what opponent could carry my lustful attention and pose the precise challenge that Mr. Lautner needed to face.
After considering several potential opponents, even having a false start with one of them, I settled upon a return to the Producer’s Ring Focus Group for a man who has never failed to inspire my homoerotic wrestling imagination: Hugh Jackman. The muscle mass he put on for the last X-Men movie was absolutely jaw dropping. He also provides nice contrasts to Taylor when it comes to several angles that I have a particular fondness for… youth versus maturity, smooth versus hairy, small versus big, rookie versus veteran…
As always, my homoerotic wrestling fiction is available to those who sign onto the Producer’s Ring group. There are no fees or costs associated with signing on – just your attestation that you enjoy homoerotic wrestling (and by implication, aren’t a spammer/hater). I don’t want to spoil anything for those who want to sit down with an admittedly long short story detailing how Taylor’s determination to take the entertainment industrial complex by storm ends up putting him pec-to-pec with the likes of big, bad, beautiful Hugh. As with all of the Focus Group matches in the Producer’s Ring, it should come as no surprise that this one features nude wrestling pretty much from start to finish. The stakes are higher in this match than most, however, so those who were pleading to read a fuck-or-get-fucked match starring barely legal Taylor, I’m hoping your lustful desires will be satisfied.

I’ve got an angle that I’m eager to write for the superhero series in the Sidelineland group next, along with the part 2 of the latest chapter in the Wrestle Club series, not to mention another story that’s already sketched out between me and Metellus for the Producer’s Ring Secretarial Pool. No promises on when they’ll get written. But I’m feeling confident in saying that they will get written. Thanks for you patience, inspiration, and feedback, everyone!

It’s Like a Heatwave Burning in My Heart

The oppressive summer heat has arrived across almost all of the United States, including my normally moderate little corner. I’m not a fan of serious summer heat. I much prefer to generate my own.
My workplace is not air conditioned, which accounts for some of my unhappiness with the heat. Still, working inside, there are options that aren’t available to the fine folks whose labors require them to be outside. In their honor, I’ll resist the temptation to whine… too much.
But what to do when the heat sucks the energy out of you and you find yourself sweating while sitting absolutely still? Like Cristiano Ronaldo, you can always just grab a hose and wet down your massively muscled legs and the side of beef you’re smuggling in your trunks.

Or like Aussie Hugh Jackman, soak your glistening, hairy, hard muscles from head to toe by frolicking in the ocean.
Admittedly, finding the nearest muscle hunk and offering to lather him up with sunscreen may not cool things off, but it’s certainly a way to turn lemons into lemonade, now, isn’t it?
Lathering up your own sweet pecs and mounded arms is always a good idea, as well. I’m all about skin health. If you do it real slow, pinching your nipples a little as you go, the sun screen covers better (I swear… just try it, you’ll see).

Like rugby musclegod, Ben Cohen (appearing in a wrestling fantasy near you), you could let your inner child (encased in your hairy, hunky, brick house of a body) bust out on a water slide.
Did I mention frolicking in the ocean making sure every inch of your rippled muscles get good and wet? It’s worth mentioning again.
Finally, perhaps the best way to beat the heat is with some naked sword play in a cool, dark space. However you cope, I hope that you regulate your temperature effectively… cool when you need to be cool, and hot when you’re in the mood to get hot.

Aussie Dreams

I’m in an Aussie sort of mood, and what better way to appeal to an Aussie sort of mood than naked Hugh Jackman? Hugh has made two appearances in my wrestling fiction, once going pec to pec with Daniel Craig and once as a guest referee with is thumb on the scales (sneaky bastard).

Hugh’s appearance in X-Men Origins: Wolverine was nearly more tease than I could handle. The implication was that there was plenty of muscleman Hugh nakedness, but it was all so coy and lasted little more than two frames at a time. Still, I have HD and a pause button, and what I see is a stunning specimen of bulging Aussie muscles.

There’s even a little wrestling kinkster payoff in the movie, if you’re patient. He starts off boxing with a superhuman size/strength mutant in order to win some information from him. In a clean boxing match, Wolverine/Hugh is completely outmatched. Like any good heel, he doesn’t let that stand between him and victory.
Tossing the gloves, Wolverine/Hugh leaps up to the turnbuckle, launches himself through the air, and drops a licktastic, muscle pumped, vein popping elbow down on his opponent’s head. The shape that Hugh got into for this movie is incredible, and there’s nothing to be done but to worship this man. Watching him ham it up pro-wrestling style only confirms what I’ve known for some time: that Hugh is a man of my wrestling fantasies.
Sweaty, veins bulging, hairy beast that he is, Hugh must be worshipped. Or, if you’re Daniel Craig starring in my wrestling fantasies, Hugh must be pec clawed with his face smashed deep up your gorgeous English musclebutt. Either way, it’s a win-win for me (and Hugh, the way I write him).

Alpha Dogs

I’m venturing into a highly controversial topic today, I realize. I fully expect the hating to begin the moment after many of you read this. But it’s on my mind, and I simply have to name it.
A beautiful man who loves his dog is incredibly hot. A hunk with other animals simply doesn’t do it for me. George Clooney and a pot-bellied pig is more creepy than sexy to me. And don’t get me started on cats. But a gorgeous man with a dog gets his sexy-quotient (SQ) multiplied by at least 10. If he’s shirtless as he’s walking his dog, like Orlando Bloom here, his SQ is multiplied by 20. If it’s a terrier, I have to adjust myself.
The dog-factor in the SQ is pretty indiscriminate. Just love a dog, and a hunk get’s an SQ boost. But some hunks are seriously into their dogs. David Duchovny, the voice of Pedigree, takes pet companionship extremely seriously. He can be bundled up in his puffy coat and skull cap, but seeing him patiently walking his dog down the sidewalk makes him as irresistible as if he was naked. I know he’s a recovering sex-addict, but I’ve got to admit I’d throw that in a restroom stall and loiter till I’m exhausted (not that I ever do that…).
Justin Theroux, who is far, far more talented and beautiful than his credits would suggest, is a dog advocate and hardbody hunk who makes me sit up and bark. He’s already appeared in my wrestling fantasies, but with his dog stretched across his lap, I’m feeling desperate for some obedience training. My fantasy wrestling match between Justin and Michael C. Hall is one of my favorites for the overlap of wrestling, body worship, and the fight for dominance.
Some gorgeous men hardly need the extra push to put them over the lust-line. As if Hugh Jackman could get any more desirable, his family dog clutched under one arm makes me swoon. In my wrestling fiction, I’ve featured Hugh getting ripped apart by Daniel Craig, but finding no evidence that Daniel is a dog-guy, I’m thinking Hugh could have an edge in a rematch. Any man who’s had to learn how to be alpha dog in his own home has to have an edge in a fight over one who hasn’t learned the art of canine dominance training.

Some hunks are definitely pushed across the line of lustworthiness for me by knowing that a dog loves them. I go back and forth with
Zachary Quinto. Some days, his round, round ass and long lean body make me pant. Some days, not so much. These days, knowing that he walks his Irish Wolfhound in flip flops, and I’m entirely in the fan category. He’s simply got to make an appearance in my wrestling fiction soon. Not that he’ll necessarily win, but win or lose, he’s the stuff of my fantasies.

Jake Gyllenhaal, Justin Timberlake… the list goes on and on. Not every hunk of my dreams is a dog person. But those that are dog lovers turn me on even more than they otherwise would. To have a dog in your life suggests to me a maturity, a patience, and a deep understanding of what it means to have to prove your dominance by putting someone else on their back until they submit. And that is what it’s all about.

Thinly Veiled

Squarehippies, “the site for shirtless male celebrities,” has the ironic new posting featuring screencaps of Jamie Bamber shirted. Like Squarehippies, I completely agree that paying Jamie to appear in a movie in which he remains entirely clothed throughout is like hiring a prostitute to watch TV with. What’s the point?

Still, despite the un-evocative caps of Jamie from Pulse 2 (what the…?), I do admit that I’ve seen some mighty arousing pics of Jamie with clothes – albeit, in skin tight, soaking wet shirts. It’s hard to disguise that stunning Brit body in a painted on T. I’d prefer to see some of his bare-chested deliciousness, but hell, it’s not like this is bad:

Which makes me think… when is it not all bad to see my worship-worthy objects of lust fully clothed? Sometimes, I think, an occasional shirted shot is nearly as drool-worthy as all skin… nearly…

Ryan Kwanten has spent the first two seasons of True Blood primarily naked, and secondarily clothed only from the waist down. On those rare occasions then he’s donned a shirt, it’s hugging that 0% body-fat-bod like a layer of sweat. His chest straining the fabric, his biceps bulging, popping out of the short sleeves… okay, so this is certainly a tasty treat. It’s not like I wouldn’t stumble all over myself if I saw Ryan in a skin-tight T walking down the street.
Speaking of stumbling all over myself, one of my newsboy crushes is making me feel all flustered in this pic of him in an urbancouture t-shirt. Rob Marciano can’t look ugly. He’s simply not capable of it. But this white t-shirt accentuated that massive, gorgeous chest leaves so very little to the imagination. His nips showing through are mindblowing. Any wonder why Rob features prominently in my first newsboy wrestling fiction series?
Hugh is looking more and more beastly as he ages, which is simply sexy as hell. His vascularity is jaw-dropping. This shirted pic of him hardly competes with his Bondi Beach shirtless romps in the waves, but look at the way his pecs stretch out that fabric. A little nipplage is icing on the cake, and those rock hard shoulders squeezed into that polo are… what, the ice cream? Whatever the metaphor, I want to eat him… I mean, I want to eat it.

And along the lines of edible, I’ve never seen a boy in long sleeves as sssssexy as this pic of Chris Evans. Hell, he even has two shirts on, and still his rocking body is on stunning display. The pecs, the shoulders, the biceps…. Sweet God, I definitely want to see this man with a shirt on…. so that I can slowly rip it off of him. Come to think of it, all of these shirted studpuppies show up in my gay wrestling fiction. With bodies that can’t look bad, naked, clothed, or any variation thereof, my imagination kicks into overdrive at the sight of these hunks.

I’m Ready To Dance

Before a couple of days ago, the only thing I really knew about Bondi Beach was that my favorite photos of my favorite wet Aussie were taken there.

Now, I’m infatuated with the Bondi Beach Flash Mob on YouTube. I’m not usually emotionally labile. I’m one of those gay guys still buying into the notion that I’m supposed to be emotionally distant in order to be a man (not proud – just sayin’…). So why is it, then, that this stuff makes me all weepy? What is it about a so-called “flash mob” that makes my lip quiver and my eyes mist up?

Of course I have a theory, and of course I’m going to share it. I think flash mobs (and not just the ones with drag queens) cut straight to my little gay core because I can’t avoid reading into the text the metaphor of coming out. Like the flash mob, we’re everywhere and intermixed among the unsuspecting populace. Like the flash mob, we’ve got our own moves, routines, rhythms and choreography that we know from a lifetime of negotiating how to be gay in a straight world, but the rest of the population just doesn’t know the steps (even if they wanted to join in). Like the flash mob, we know sometimes camp is the only way to resist a world of sleepwalkers taking for granted that everyone around them is just like them, that everyone around them moves and thinks just like them, that everyone around them is here to do just what they do.
When wave after wave of “spectators” jump up over time and join in, it sends chills down my spine. Like the flash mob, we are fabulous, fearless, and fierce in the face of every effort to make us conform to the expectations of the faceless sea of straights sunbathing next to us. I think I know why this makes me cry (this one makes me ball like a baby). I think it taps into this fantasy I subconsciously (until now) carry around, that one day we’re all going to hear the music playing, and as one, we’re going to jump up and start dancing with our freak flags (and our gay flags) flying. And it will be stunning and awesome and beautiful. And the rest of the world is going to smile stunned, and grab their cameras, and think to themselves, “This is fantastic!”
So this turned out to be totally confessional and perhaps not in keeping with what I typically write. I hope the gratuitous pics of Hugh kept you occupied. I also hope you’ll forgive me for my digression. Now I’m going to watch the video clip from Bondi Beach again with the kleenex box in hand.

Good Grooming

My fixation on pecs is fading, but one last post on the topic that has captured my attention lately. While I don’t support cosmetic surgery, implants, or other artificial means to enforce only one standard of beauty, I am a big supporter of good personal grooming. It doesn’t take a big effort to keep hairy chests tamed. I’m not suggesting that any hair makes for ugly pecs. In fact there are excellent examples of beautifully hairy-chested men. I’ve been contemplating a reality-TV host battle royal in my wrestling fiction, the
Producer’s Ring, to pull Mike Rowe into the story. Hirsute Aussie Hugh Jackman is already a fan favorite in the Ring. My hunch is that both of these hotties groom extensively, yet maintain beautifully hairy chests.

But when all one can see is hair, it’s time to get out the trimmer. Alec Baldwin in his younger days was so handsome, but the only thing visible below the neck was that carpet of hair. You could lose an earring in there if you’re not careful.
Justin Theroux has a fantastic body, and different shots of him show that he sometimes shaves his chest, sometimes not. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of the view of that anatomy-chart of a body, he can do ANYTHING he’d like. Justin has made one appearance in my wrestling fiction, the Producer’s Ring, mostly as an excuse to write up some body worship.
Then again, sometimes an entirely bare chest is a little creepy. It could be that he’s naturally blond and his body hair just isn’t so visible (or he’s still waiting for puberty to finish), but Hunter Parrish’s hairless bod creeps me out just a bit. Hunter shows up as a jobber a few times in the Producer’s Ring. There’s something about him getting worked over that’s very satisfying.
Finally, I want to mention my deep appreciation of the beautiful rack on Tahmoh Penikett. I suspect his First Nation heritage might account for his minimal body hair, but from some angles, you can catch just an ever-so-light patch of hair just between his gorgeous pecs, right above his sternum. Tahmoh figured in one of the first matches I wrote up for the Producer’s Ring, and as I think he’ll be making a follow up appearance soon.