I once described "OUT" magazine as . . .
. . . "People for queers." I did this to differentiate OUT from The Advocate ("TIME for queers") to one of my straight friends.
If OUT is People for queers, then A Bear's Life is OUT for bears.
I got my first issue a couple of days ago, and it's actually pretty good. It needs a little fine tuning; a couple of the articles read like high-school writing assignments, but it's good to have a magazine featuring people I can relate to. (Are you reading this, Eurotwink-filled GENRE magazine?)
There's a large community of gay men out there who'd rather watch football or NASCAR than Barbra or Liza. We'd rather change our oil than arrange flowers. We don't wear Hugo Boss suits or polymer pants -- we wear t-shirts, flannel and blue jeans (ABL offers helpful tips on how to look good in jeans, in fact. If you have an ample posterior, a condition rampant in the bear community, get jeans that have large back pockets.) We barbecue; we don't "entertain."
At 18 bucks for 4 issues (a year's worth), it is a little pricey for what you get, but it's worth it.
And don't worry, there's no pecker shots, so you can read it in public.
FWIW: I just discovered a guy I long ago had an email friendship with, Anthony Lordi, is one of the columnists. I think it's the same Anthony Lordi anyway. My Anthony was a weightlifter. This one's little profile doesn't list weightlifting, but does mention the Scottish games.
1 Comments:
The lad you know as TrucTrucTruc and I were watching the university you and I have attended whupping up on Southwest Baptist in football last night and he was talking up the whole concept of the new Missouri State logo and gear and whatnot and I allowed as how (in addition to being kinda sick of the place) I didn't want to be associated with any "bear" wear as I am kinda big and hairy and "thenthitive" and didn't want folks to get the wrong impression of me. And then I had to explain the concept-I was surprised he didn't know that, but now he does, just like I know that Richard Simmons was in Fellini's "Satyricon," which bores me to tears, unlike most Fellini films. WHY oh why am I tormented by the sad clown of life?
R
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