Producer’s Ring

I’m sitting on several exciting projects that should ripen nicely within the coming days and weeks. I’m working on my next homoerotic wrestling comic, and I’m really, really enjoying how it’s turning out, so far. Here are a couple of preview images for you, available only here on the blog, in various states of being incomplete. They’ll look different in their final drafts, but I know some of you will get a kick out of the works-in-progress versions. The final drafts, in full comic layout, will appear at part of Sidelineland Stories.

Astonishingly, I’m even more stoked for the impending publication of a new Focus Group match in the Producer’s Ring. I alluded to this last week, but this will be the combustible compound that results from mixing my prose with ArtReplicant’s astonishingly sexy 3D artwork. We’ll be publishing this new match, the first, ever, illustrated Producer’s Ring match, very soon, at the resurrected Producer’s Ring archives. Here are some teasers to give you a sneak peak of what’s to come.

And finally, I wish I had an intern for the tedious grunt work of translating the old archives over to their new homes. But, alas, without an intern, it’s just me doing the tedium. Most recently, I’ve uploaded to the Producer’s Ring a couple more Focus Group matches, along with the first TV League match I ever wrote. To be pedantic, this version of the TV League match pitting Jamie Bamber against Tahmoh Penikett is the “director’s cut” version that I re-wrote and published on the pages of this blog about a year and a half ago. It’s just written soooo much better, and the plot and details are just way, way more interesting than the original. If some diehard really wants a copy of the original version, like, if you’re doing a dissertation on the rhetorical development of my homoerotic wrestling celebrity fan fiction, and you simply have to have the untouched earliest historical document, let me know. Short of that, I’m just sticking with publishing this newer version, because it’s fucking sexier!

I don’t know how long this burst of creativity will keep going, but I’m riding the wave as far as it will take me. I hope you enjoy some of it!

I Apologize, Tahmoh


I’m not pulling my weight. I feel bad about it. I haven’t seen even one episode of
Dollhouse, despite being a loyal Joss Whedon fan, a sci-fi nerd, and madly in love with Tahmoh Penikett. Now that the show is being cancelled, I feel like I’ve squandered my market citizenship by failing to reward Dollhouse with my viewership. I’m sorry, and I’m prepared to make it up to Tahmoh in ANY way that he might like (I have ideas in mind in case he’s needs them).

One of my first wrestling fiction matches pitted Tahmoh and his stunningly square jaw against muscleboy Jamie Bamber. I wondered which one of them might win a pro-style match if they were battling for a role in the next big series following the end of Battlestar Gallactica. In the spirit of pro-wrestling’s penchant for turning singles adversaries into tag team partners, I’ve been contemplating teaming the two of them up for a return appearance in the Producer’s Ring. I’m still trying to decide who they might battle (any suggestions?).
Having failed Joss, sci-fi, and Tahmoh, I hereby promise that whatever their next projects are, I’ll faithfully follow them. Particularly if it involves Tahmoh showing a lot of skin. From the captures of Dollhouse that Superherofan has posted, I suspect I’ll be checking the series out in DVD and kicking myself even harder for not supporting the effort sooner.

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.