Charlie

The early 1930s were actually more relaxed and open about homosexuality in plays and movies than they were after WW2. Censorship of the movies only started in the mid-1930s. I remember when the movie version of The Children's Hour was made in 1961, the subject matter was considered so daring that it could only be suggested obliquely, and of course the lesbian character played by Sandy Dennis had to be killed at the end. I took a girlfriend at the time to see it, and I actually had to explain to her what was going on in the plot, because she didn't get it.

I started masturbating regularly when I was about eight years old, but I don't remember what I was thinking about while it happened. However, when I was twelve, I remember thinking about one of my classmates, Ricky Hill, who was more physically mature than the rest of the class, and very cute; I thought about what he looked like when he was naked in the gym locker room. The next summer, I was staying at my grandmother's house, and started reading a crime novel she had in the house, Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, which has a homosexual character in it. When Philip Marlowe makes a crack to him that suggests the possibility that he might be forced to perform oral sex on Marlowe, I suddenly realized that was what I wanted to do! As a footnote, at my 50th high school reunion, I was engaged in conversation by a bald, grey, dumpy old guy whom I didn't recognize until I glanced at his name tag--it was Ricky Hill.

Have you submitted a review? That is where this info belongs.

When I lived in Philly, I frequently shopped in Whole Foods, and often ate lunch at the very store in which I suspect WilliamM had his encounter with the security guard. Then I moved to an area of southern CA with no Whole Foods, and often lamented that fact. Recently, WF finally opened a store downvalley, so yesterday I eagerly headed there, prepared to do a big shopping. To my great disappointment, they had very few things I wanted that I couldn't get at my local Ralph's, Von's or Albertson's. I came away with much less than I had intended, yet it still cost me $135. Maybe my memory is colored by nostalgia, but I thought they used to carry a lot more interesting and unique prepared items.

I think thickornotatall may have misread your post and did not realize that you were talking about yourself, not WilliamM. I often have trouble keeping track of who is saying what in a long thread.

One of the big problems with such a discussion is the definition of "college," which covers as multifarious a range of possibilities as "dog" does. A community college in the rural South, a large state university in the Midwest, and a prestigious private college in the Northeast can be as different as a Rottweiler, a Whippet and a Pekinese. Different colleges are good and bad for different purposes. If you want to work for Bain Capital, a major DC law firm, or become a research physicist, you go to an Ivy or Stanford, MIT or maybe a top state university like Michigan, you don't go to Cal State Fullerton or Oklahoma Baptist U; it also helps if your parents are doctors or corporate executives. If you want a decent middle class job, you have many more choices, but there are still numerous routes to get there, from a solid state university or second tier private college, to starting in a community college and eventually transferring to a four year school. There are also good jobs to be had with a two year technical degree. If you are a really bright and creative type, and can accept insecurity, you may not need to graduate from any kind of college. Most of the criticism of "college" or "university" education these days is based on examination of a very small slice of higher education, generally the most prestigious schools, the same kinds that the authors of those books and articles went to themselves. Yes, the faculty at the top schools--both private and public--lean strongly to the left, and are paid a lot of money, and often do little actual teaching of undergraduates; that job is left to TAs. But the majority of private colleges and state schools--even the flagship state universities--still have ideologically middle-of-the-road faculty who make less money than they could in private industry or even government bureaucracies, and a high percentage of the undergraduate teaching at the public colleges is done by part-time faculty who eke out a living by teaching several courses at a time at different schools. I have known plenty of these "adjunct instructors," who are lucky to make $30,000/year. The large increases in the cost of a college education are often driven by the proliferation of administrative non-teaching employees, and the obscene salaries and benefits paid to the top officers at many schools and education systems, like the three tiers of the state higher education apparatus in California. The excuse used for paying so much for the presidents, deans, CFOs, etc., is that it is necessary to attract "qualified" people to run things, as though their main qualification is the desire to make as much money as possible. I could go on and on about this subject, but I don't want to sit here typing all night and raising my blood pressure.

When I was young, the assumption was that a college education would expose you to ideas and information, allow you to discover what you wanted to do with your life, help you to become a mature adult, and if all that happened, you would find some way to support yourself. Now the assumption seems to be that the purpose of college is to provide you with a ticket for a well-paid job in finance, government, business, technology, or medicine, from the moment you graduate until you retire. I find that very depressing.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the thread title, since my very first boyfriend was a Gino in New Jersey. Unfortunately, he didn't look anything like this one.

Water closet is the standard British term for the room we Americans usually refer to as the toilet or the bathroom (even when it doesn't have a bath in it), generally shortened to simply the WC, which is how it is labeled almost everywhere in Europe for the aid of English speakers.

Probably a reference to card games in which spades is the highest value suit.

That was the one.

When the Selectric came out, I found it as unnerving to use as I now find typing on an iPad. I learned to type on my grandfather's 1920 manual Underwood, which I now wish I had saved instead of getting rid of it when I got my first portable (!!) Hermes manual.

I think it is interesting that almost everyone still refers to "dialing" a number, even though almost no one has a phone with a dial on it any longer, and the sound on a landline phone that lets one know that one can punch in a number is still called a "dial tone."

I was 17 when I came out, and many of the men I had sex with in my late teens and early twenties were in their 30s and 40s; one of my regulars was almost 60. It was mainly because I was always horny, and they were the guys who were available, and had their own place to do it. However, as I got into my 20s, I had my own place, and I began to look for peers closer to my own age for relationships, which became more important than just sex. I continued to make gay friends who were sometimes much older than I was, but my first partner was 3 years older and my eventual spouse was 7 years older, not exactly gerontophilia. I think the number of young gays who are permanently attracted to much older men is pretty small, but I suspect many successful professional escorts are genuinely attracted to older men.

I would be happy to pay a much higher gas tax, if I trusted that it would be used for infrastructure repair.

I just paid $3.06 for regular at my usual station in Palm Springs, the lowest I have paid there in years.

As I drove from downtown San Diego through Mission Valley and Hemet to Palm Springs, I saw those three different prices. Crazy!

Mine was the second post in this thread, thirteen years ago, so I was curious to check what I was paying then: $1.38 for hi-test, in Philadelphia. The other day I paid $3.37 in Hemet, CA, for regular, and thought it was a bargain.

And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-- (They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!") My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin-- (They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!") Do I dare disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. ............................................ I grow old...I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the [escorts] singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. (courtesy of T. S. Eliot, with slight emendation)

Well, FOS, I think you have your answer: some people will think you demonstrate admirable self-confidence, some will think you are silly and tasteless (no matter what your physical shape), and many will neither notice nor care what you wear. Your choice of what to do will depend on which of those opinions matters to you.

I wear Speedos at home in the privacy of my own pool, because I feel they are the most comfortable way to swim (and when the sun goes down, I swim naked). But since I am waaay past fifty, at a public pool or beach, I feel more comfortable psychologically wearing a more conservative bathing suit, for the same reason that I would feel silly wearing the tight t-shirts that I wore for cruising when I was in my 20s. Sometime in my 50s, I realized that even though my body shape hadn't changed much since my youth, my attitude toward exhibiting it had. So, wear what makes you feel comfortable.

The first time I heard, a week ago, that the last words from the plane to ground control were "All right, good night," I thought it sounded odd. Now the officials are admitting that this was not a normal sign-off, and some of the plane's communication devices had already been deliberately turned off before then. The question now is: who was speaking?

But if that were the rational explanation, why not just ditch the plane into the water immediately? Why--as several sources are now suggesting--change the route to the west and fly for several more hours? So far there don't seem to be any logical explanations for the whole thing.

It's now being reported that two of the Europeans listed as passengers were not on the flight--both had reported their passports stolen in Thailand. Certainly suspicious.

When it is 117 here and someone reminds me, "But it's a dry heat," I want to smack him.