(Hunky young men with very little on, in a sexualized context, so not for everyone.)

The Daily Jocks ad for 11/13, with ad copy, plus a caption, and then further illustrations for the caption:

(#1) “Introducing the Covert collection by [fantasy homowear company] CellBlock13: This jockstrap features a snap off pouch made of luxuriously smooth coated PU [polyurethane] that showcases your goods just right, and extra-soft fleece w/ u-bulge on the inside will feel great against your package. Available in Red, Blue & Khaki.”


a gleaming carapace
black hardness

soft sweet pleasure

the stark metal gate is
both protector and
entryway for

sumptuous indolence
lavish indulgence
elegant depravity


The metal gate:

(#2) A metal door to the Lima Cathedral (constructed 1535-1649): the central gateway, called the Portada del Perdón ‘door of forgiveness’)

And the langorous carnality, on luxurious sheets:

(#3) From The Gay Side of Life blog, on the page “Colors of Nude Men”

On the underwear company. From my 7/23/17 posting “Codpieces on Cellblock 13”:

ad copy for the bodywear company, from Daily Jocks:

CellBlock13 is the raunchy big daddy to its founder Timoteo. Created with a unique style for the man that likes to get down and dirty in his underwear choices, you’ll love CellBlock13’s risqué and seductive designs.

A serendipitous note. While I was assembling the materials for this posting this morning — in fact, right after I found the iron door photo in #2 — Max Vasilatos arrived to go out for lunch with me, bearing a little present, a spiral-bound blank notebook, one created from a used book, with occasional pages from the actual book interpolated. Specifically, the 1923 novel The Mine with the Iron Door, set around Tucson AZ, by Harold Bell Wright (1872-1944), who churned out best-selling books that were poorly received by reviewers.

(#4) Cover of the 1923 novel

I take pleasure in reading the title as an alternative title for #1, understanding the snap-on / snap-off polyurethane pouch of the Covert jockstrap the model Duro (as I think of him) is wearing there as the figurative iron gate to Duro’s figurative mineral resources, his package.

The snippets of the novel in the notebook are hard to endure. Tons of thick Western-yokel dialect:

”I’m a-tellin’ ye that them thar Pardners an’ their gal — Marta her name is — are th’ beatenest outfit ye er ary other man ever seed. Ain’t nbody kin figger ’em out, nohow. They’ve been here nigh about five year, too. Me an’ paw an’ maw, we been here eight year ourselves — comin’ this fall. Yes, sir, they’re sure a queer actin’ lot.” (p. 7)

(On the plus side, “(They’re) Sure a Queer Actin’ Lot” could serve as a title for the photo in #3.)

With occasional exposition in archly elevated diction:

And no one could have failed to mark the eager viciousness of the Lizard’s expression as the loose-mouthed creature ruminated on the delectable gossip he was about to offer. (p. 7)

I am not moved to search out a copy of the whole book — though it sold vast numbers of copies and was made into film twice, as a silent in 1924 and as a talkie in 1936 (presumably on the basis of its setting and plot).

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