Leaderboard

Boy Toys, Escorts And Houseboys, Oh My! At BoyToy, we use a lot of terms to describe different types of sexual relationships between older guys and young gays. While many of you are familiar with these terms already, we know that many guys cum here who are new to the gay scene. Not everyone becomes strictly dickly when they are 18. Some of us didn't figure out that sausage was our thing until we were older. With that in mind, we decided to do a rundown on the three most common types of relationships we discuss boy toys, escorts and houseboys. While all are similar in that they involve trading the salami with an up and cummer, there are nuances to the relationships and it's important to know the distinction so that you know exactly what you are looking for from your sexperience. Boy Toys For many of us, boy toys are the ideal relationship. It's when we go out on dates with a younger guy who wants to profit from our experience. We take him out to dinner, go to the movies, and cuddle at home. While there is a financial dynamic in that we probably make more money than they do and therefore pay for drinks and meals and such, it's not an escort or houseboy experience. They don't work for us. Instead, we simply have great nights out and take them to places and events they probably couldn't afford to do on their own. If we were straight, they would be trophy wives or trophy girlfriends. Because we are happy homos, they are boy toys instead. We get the fun of playing with a hot young body, and they get to be with a guy who can take them to places more sophisticated than Burger King on a date. While there is a potential for actual romance here, it's generally understood that boy toys are fairly disposable. As they get older, we'll replace them with a newer model and they will move on to dating guys their own age. As the name would suggest, it's a fun, simple relationship where everyone is in it to have a gay old time. Male Escorts Male escorts are at the extreme other end of the spectrum. The relationship is purely financial. While we might take them out to dinner, we don't have to. Instead we can just have them meet us at a hotel room, get our rocks off, and discreetly hand them an envelope full of cash. Male escorts are generally one-night stands. We meet, we mate, and they go away. While we can, of course, hire them again, if we don't there are no hard feelings. You can be with one male escort on Friday and another on Saturday, and it's just business as usual. You can hire escorts for longer periods of time a weekend away or for an entire week on vacation, for example but that's the sexception that proves the rule. There is rarely any romantic aspect to the relationship, though you can pay them to act like your boyfriend for a few hours. Houseboys Houseboys occupy a land between that of a boy toy and a male escort. It is a financial arrangement, but also a domestic one - and feelings do often get involved. In a houseboy relationship, you give the young stud a salary to live in your house and take care of tidying up, changing the sheets, doing the shopping and more often than not, cooking dinner. There is, of course, the expectation that the houseboy will have sex with you when you want it but there is no expectation or obligation that you will be faithful to your houseboy. Also, you'll still be paying your houseboy his salary/allowance even if, for whatever reason, you two aren't fucking for a period of time. The closest example in the straight world is that of a housewife except a houseboy gets paid for his work, and you aren't tied to them for life. After a year or two, you can give them severance pay and replace them with a new houseboy. It goes without saying that when you are living with a cute young boy and having sex regularly, romantic aspects and feelings can sometimes get involved. Bu, it's not like dating a boy toy, because the room, board and salary are understood as the reason he is there. And, he is obligated to work for the creature comforts and roof over his head that you are providing. Many men who don't want to deal with the hassle of dating, but also don't want to risk having bad experiences with random escorts, choose the houseboy lifestyle because it combines the best of both worlds and minimizes the negatives of both experiences. cc boytoy.com 2013

Happy MLK Day! He was a great man and helped to move America in a direction toward equality for all. His words and his wisdom are still very valuable in the gay rights movement. All men are created equal. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Luther_King,_Jr._Day I loved Google's drawing today.

Great article my friend. I have see the one hotel in the slide show but never stayed there. When I was 16 years old, I "escaped" from my family and told them I was staying with a friend. My two other friends did the same and we went to Nashville, Tenn for the weekend. We had a blast but we knew nothing of travel so we stayed in a hotel that had the brightest lights. We didn't know at the time but it was a love hotel and the bed was a massage bed. Jacuzzi was in the room. There was a place to get tied up but we didn't know what any of this was for. I was a bit naive to be honest. It was me and my best friend and my girlfriend. We all slept in the same bed. Of course, I cuddled with her but ended up getting fucked by him when she was asleep. LOL I guess the Love Hotels have a real place in my heart!

Well, you have seen prior GOP attempts at intimidating voters at the polls refreshed in the news by the SOTUS refusing to undo a law several decades old the prohibited GOP poll watchers from acosting voters to question their legitimacy. Then there was the photo ID issue ginned up to ferret out nonexistent fraudulent voters. The only cases of fraud found in the last election were a couple of GOP functionaries, one attempting to vote twice and another one or two trashing voter registrations of Democrats that their voter registration drives unfortunately produced. Also recall the OH Secretary of State and the Florida Governor who attempted to cut back early voting, some even brazenly only-in-Democrat-leaning districts. Also attempting to purge rolls of active minority voters. Add to that the Florida Governor cutting back the number of polling locations, and packing the ballot with many pages of legalese fine print to speed of up the process in the fewer polling places available. I know I'm leaving some out but I think I have made a case. Now comes a quiet behind-the-scene coordinated move to change the way states apportion Electoral Votes (EVs). Rather than have winner-take-all statewide, there will be an attempt to apportion the EVs by Congressional District. Why is this bad? Gerrymandering. Either party in power in 'decade years' has the power to draw congressional districts for the next ten years. They draw them in favor of the party in power obviously. What does this mean in practical terms? Consider OH. Obama actually carried OH statewide. The Liberal pro-union Sherrod Brown won reelection to the Senate over his GOP opponent by 6% margin. Yet the GOP won 12 House seats vs 4 for the Dems. This is the effect of gerrymandering on House Disctricts. You really do not believe all those conservative votes for the House also voted for Sherrod Brown do you? He was designated #1 target for defeat by the GOP Senate Campaign Committee. Nationwide, the Dem House winners won just shy of a half-million more votes than the GOP House winners. Yet the GOP retained control of the House by 235 to 194 for the Dems. That is the power of gerrymandering. Now the GOP wants to change the Electoral College to look like the gerrymandered House Districts. Put bluntly, that would permit a super-minority to elect Presidents in perpetuity. Is the GOP dead set on another Civil War? If you want to know more about this gerymandered Presidency scheme here is Rachel Maddow's take, one of them anyway. http://stopmakingsense.org/2013/01/17/rachel-maddow-the-gops-electoral-college-scheme-msnbc/

Extraordinary limning of these issues in deep historical perspective, by maybe one of our last journalists to merit the label of public intellectual. Read the whole thing before making conclusions. The war on drugs and alcohol is a war against human nature Humankind's thirst for intoxicants is unquenchable, but to criminalise it reinforces the clinging to addiction Lewis Lapham for Tom Dispatch, part of the Guardian Comment Network guardian.co.uk, Monday 10 December 2012 12.06 EST Ecstasy tablets. 'Red, white and blue pills sell the hope of heaven made with artificial sweeteners.' Photograph: PA The question that tempts mankind to the use of substances controlled and uncontrolled is next of kin to Hamlet's: to be, or not to be, someone or somewhere else. Escape from a grievous circumstance or the shambles of an unwanted self, the hope of finding at a higher altitude a new beginning or a better deal. Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars; give me leave to drown my sorrow in a quart of gin; wine, dear boy, and truth. That the consummations of the wish to shuffle off the mortal coil are as old as the world itself was the message brought by Abraham Lincoln to an Illinois temperance society in 1842. "I have not inquired at what period of time the use of intoxicating liquors commenced," he said, "nor is it important to know." It is sufficient to know that on first opening our eyes "upon the stage of existence", we found "intoxicating liquor recognised by everybody, used by everybody, repudiated by nobody". The state of intoxication is a house with many mansions. Fourteen centuries before the birth of Christ, the Rigveda finds Hindu priests chanting hymns to a "drop of soma", the wise and wisdom-loving plant from which was drawn juices distilled in sheep's wool that "make us see far; make us richer, better". Philosophers in ancient Greece rejoiced in the literal meaning of the word symposium, a "drinking together". The Roman Stoic Seneca recommends the judicious embrace of Bacchus as a liberation of the mind "from its slavery to cares, emancipates it, invigorates it, and emboldens it for all its undertakings". Omar Khayyam, 12th-century Persian mathematician and astronomer, drinks wine "because it is my solace", allowing him to "divorce absolutely reason and religion". Martin Luther, early father of the Protestant reformation, in 1530 exhorts the faithful to "drink, and right freely", because it is the devil who tells them not to. "One must always do what Satan forbids. What other cause do you think that I have for drinking so much strong drink, talking so freely, and making merry so often, except that I wish to mock and harass the devil who is wont to mock and harass me." Dr Samuel Johnson, child of the Enlightenment, requires wine only when alone, "to get rid of myself – to send myself away". The French poet Charles Baudelaire, prodigal son of the industrial revolution, is less careful with his time. "One should always be drunk. That's the great thing, the only question. Drunk with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please." My grandfather, Roger Lapham (1883-1966), was similarly disposed, his house in San Francisco the stage of existence upon which, at the age of seven in 1942, I first opened my eyes to the practice as old as the world itself. At the Christmas family gathering that year, Grandfather deemed any and all children present who were old enough to walk instead of toddle therefore old enough to sing a carol, recite a poem, and drink a cup of kindness made with brandy, cinnamon, and apples. To raise the spirit, welcome the arrival of our newborn Lord and Saviour. Joy to the world, peace on earth, goodwill toward men. 'If you meet, you drink …' Thus introduced to intoxicating liquors under auspices both secular and sacred, the offering of alms for oblivion I took to be the custom of the country in which I had been born. In the 1940s as it was in the 1840s, as it had been ever since the Mayflower arrived at Plymouth laden with emboldening casks of wine and beer. The spirit of liberty is never far from the hope of metamorphosis or transformation, and the Americans from the beginning were drawn to the possibilities in the having of one more for the road. They formed their character in the settling of a fearful wilderness, and the history of the country could be written as a prolonged mocking and harassing of the devil by the drinking, "and right freely", from whatever wise and wisdom-loving grain or grape came conveniently to hand. The ocean-going Pilgrims in colonial Massachusetts and Rhode Island delighted in both the taste and trade in rum. The founders of the republic in Philadelphia in 1787 were in the habit of consuming prodigious quantities of liquor as an expression of their faith in their fellow men – pots of ale or cider at midday, two or more bottles of claret at dinner followed by an amiable passing around the table of the Madeira. Among the tobacco planters in Virginia, the moneychangers in New York, the stalwart yeomen in western Pennsylvania busy at the task of making whiskey, the maintaining of a high blood-alcohol level was the mark of civilised behaviour. The lyrics of the Star-Spangled Banner were fitted to the melody of an 18th-century British tavern song. The excise taxes collected from the sale of liquor paid for the war of 1812, and by 1830 the tolling of the town bell (at 11am, and again at 4pm) announced the daily pauses for spirited refreshment. Frederick Marryat, an English traveller to America in 1839, noted in his diary that the way the natives drank was "quite a caution … If you meet, you drink; if you part, you drink; if you make acquaintance, you drink; if you close a bargain, you drink; they quarrel in their drink, and they make it up with a drink. They drink, because it is hot; they drink, because it is cold." During what were known as the Gay 90s, at the zenith of the country's gilded age, Manhattan between the Battery and 42nd Street glittered in the lights of 10,000 saloons issuing passports to the islands of the blessed and the rivers of forgetfulness. No travel plan or destination that couldn't be accommodated, prices available on request. French champagne at Sherry's Restaurant for the top-hatted Wall Street speculators celebrating the discoveries of El Dorado; shots of five-cent whiskey (said to taste "like a combination of kerosene oil, soft soap, alcohol, and the chemicals used in fire extinguishers") for the unemployed foreign labourer sleeping in the gutters south of Canal Street. Who could say who was hoping to trade places with whom, the uptown swell intent upon becoming a noble savage, the downtown immigrant imagining himself dressed in fur and diamonds? What else is America about if not the work of self-invention? Recognise the project as an always risky business, and it is the willingness to chance what dreams may come (west of the Alleghenies or on the further shores of consciousness) that gives to the American the distinguishing traits of character that the historian Daniel J Boorstin, librarian of Congress from 1975 to 1987, identified as those of the chronic revolutionary and the ever hopeful pilgrim. Boorstin drew the conclusion from his study of the American colonial experience: "No prudent man dared be too certain of exactly who he was or what he was about; everyone had to be prepared to become someone else. To be ready for such perilous transmigrations was to become an American." 'There are more kicks to be had in a good case of paralytic polio' So too in the 1960s, the prudent becoming of an American involved perilous transmigrations, psychic, spiritual and political. By no means certain who I was at the age of 24, I was prepared to make adjustments, but my one experiment with psychedelics in 1959 was a rub that promptly gave me pause. Employed at the time as a reporter at the San Francisco Examiner, I was assigned to go with the poet Allen Ginsberg to the Stanford Research Institute there to take a trip on LSD. Social scientists opening the doors of perception at the behest of Aldous Huxley wished to compare the flight patterns of a bohemian artist and a bourgeois philistine, and they had asked the paper's literary editor to furnish one of each. We were placed in adjacent soundproofed rooms, both of us under the observation of men in white coats equipped with clipboards, the idea being that we would relay messages from the higher consciousness to the air-traffic controllers on the ground. Liftoff was a blue pill taken on an empty stomach at 9am, the trajectory a bell curve plotted over a distance of seven hours. By way of travelling companions we had been encouraged to bring music, in those days on vinyl LPs, of whatever kind moved us while on earth to register emotions approaching the sublime. Together with Johann Sebastian Bach and the Modern Jazz Quartet, I attained what I'd been informed would be cruising altitude at noon. I neglected to bring a willing suspension of disbelief, and because I stubbornly resisted the sales pitch for the drug – if you, O wizard, can work wonders, prove to me the where and when and how and why – I encountered heavy turbulence. Images inchoate and nonsensical, my arms and legs seemingly elongated and embalmed in grease, the sense of utter isolation while being gnawed by rats. To the men in white I had nothing to report, not one word on either the going up and out or the coming back and down. I never learned what Ginsberg had to say. Whatever it was, I wasn't interested, and I left the building before he had returned from what by then I knew to be a dead-end sleep. My longstanding acquaintance with alcohol was for the most part cordial. Usually when I drank too much, I could guess why I did so, the objective being to murder a state of consciousness that I didn't have the courage to sustain – a fear of heights, which sometimes during the carnival of the 1960s accompanied my attempts to transform the bourgeois journalist into an avant-garde novelist. The stepped-up ambition was a commonplace among the would-be William Faulkners of my generation; nearly always it resulted in commercial failure and literary embarrassment. I didn't grow a beard or move to Vermont, but every now and then I hit upon a run of words that I could mistake for art, and I would find myself intoxicated by what Emily Dickinson knew to be "a liquor never brewed/from Tankards scooped in Pearl". The neuroscientists understand the encounter with the ineffable as an "endorphin high", the outrageously fortunate mixing of the chemicals in the brain when it is being put to imaginative and creative use. On being surprised by a joy so astonishingly sweet, I assumed that it must be forbidden, and if by the light of day I'd come too close to leaning against the sun with seraphs swinging snowy hats, by nightfall I felt bound to check into the nearest cage, drunkenness being the one most conveniently at hand. Around midnight at Elaine's, a saloon on Second Avenue in Manhattan that in those days catered to a clientele of actors, writers, and other assorted con artists playing characters of their own invention, I could count on the company of fellow travellers outward or inward bound on the roads of perilous transmigration. No matter what their reason for a timely departure – whether to obliterate the fear of failure, delete the thought of wife and home, reconfigure a mistaken identity, project into the future the birth of an imaginary self – all present were engaged in some sort of struggle between the force of life and the will to death. Thanatos and Eros seated across from each other over the backgammon board on table four, the onlookers suspending the judgment of ridicule and extending the courtesy of tolerance. Alcohol serves at the pleasure of the players on both sides of the game, its virtues those indicated by Seneca and Martin Luther, its vices those that the novelist Marguerite Duras likens, as did Hamlet, to the sleep of death: "Drinking isn't necessarily the same as wanting to die. But you can't drink without thinking you're killing yourself." Alcohol's job is to replace creation with an illusion that is barren. "The words a man speaks in the night of drunkenness fade like the darkness itself at the coming of day." The observation is in the same despairing minor key as Billie Holiday's riff on heroin: "If you think dope is for kicks and thrills you're out of your mind. There are more kicks to be had in a good case of paralytic polio and living in an iron lung. If you think you need stuff to play music or sing, you're crazy. It can fix you so you can't play nothing or sing nothing." She goes on to say that in Britain the authorities at least have the decency to treat addiction as a public health problem, but in America, "if you go to the doctor, he's liable to slam the door in your face and call the cops". Humankind's thirst for intoxicants is unquenchable, but to criminalise it, as Lincoln reminded the Illinois temperance society, reinforces the clinging to the addiction; to think otherwise would be "to expect a reversal of human nature, which is God's decree and never can be reversed". The injuries inflicted by alcohol don't follow "from the use of a bad thing, but from the abuse of a very good thing". The victims are "to be pitied and compassionated", their failings treated "as a misfortune, and not as a crime or even as a disgrace". The war on drugs as a war against human nature Whether declared by church or state, the war against human nature is by definition lost. The puritan inspectors of souls in 17th-century New England deplored even the tentative embrace of Bacchus as "great licentiousness", the faithful "pouring out themselves in all profaneness", but the record doesn't show a falling off of attendance at Boston's 18th-century inns and taverns. The laws prohibiting the sale and manufacture of alcohol in the 1920s discovered in the mark of sin the evidence of crime, but the attempt to sustain the allegation proved to be as ineffectual as it was destructive of the country's life and liberty. Instead of resurrecting from the pit a body politic of newly risen saints, prohibition guaranteed the health and welfare of society's avowed enemies. The organised-crime syndicates established on the delivery of bootleg whiskey evolved into multinational trade associations commanding the respect that comes with revenues estimated at $2bn per annum. In 1930 alone, Al Capone's ill-gotten gains amounted to $100m. So again with the war that America has been waging for the last 100 years against the use of drugs deemed to be illegal. The war cannot be won, but in the meantime, at a cost of $20bn a year, it facilitates the transformation of what was once a freedom-loving republic into a freedom-fearing national security state. The policies of zero tolerance equip local and federal law-enforcement with increasingly autocratic powers of coercion and surveillance (the right to invade anybody's privacy, bend the rules of evidence, search barns, stop motorists, inspect bank records, tap phones) and spread the stain of moral pestilence to ever larger numbers of people assumed to be infected with reefer madness – anarchists and cheap Chinese labour at the turn of the 20th century, known homosexuals and suspected communists in the 1920s, hippies and anti-Vietnam war protesters in the 1960s, nowadays young black men sentenced to long-term imprisonment for possession of a few grams of short-term disembodiment. If what was at issue was a concern for people trapped in the jail cells of addiction, the keepers of the nation's conscience would be better advised to address the conditions – poverty, lack of opportunity and education, racial discrimination – from which drugs provide an illusory means of escape. That they are not so advised stands as proven by their fond endorsement of the more expensive ventures into the realms of virtual reality. Our pharmaceutical industries produce a cornucopia of prescription drugs – eye-opening, stupefying, mood-swinging, game-changing, anxiety-alleviating, performance-enhancing – currently at a global market-value of more than $300bn. Add the time-honoured demand for alcohol, the modernist taste for cocaine and the uses, as both stimulant and narcotic, of tobacco, coffee, sugar and pornography, and the annual mustering of consummations devoutly to be wished comes to the cost of more than $1.5tn. The taking arms against a sea of troubles is an expenditure that dwarfs the appropriation for the military budget. Given the American antecedents both metaphysical and commercial – Thomas Paine drank, "and right freely"; in 1910, the federal government received 71% of its internal revenue from taxes paid on the sale and manufacture of alcohol – it is little wonder that the sons of liberty now lead the world in the consumption of better living through chemistry. The new and improved forms of self-invention fit the question – to be, or not to be – to any and all occasions.http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/dec/10/war-drugs-alcohol-against-human-nature For the ageing Wall Street speculator stepping out for an evening to squander his investment in Viagra. For the damsel in distress shopping around for a nose like the one seen advertised in a painting by Botticelli. For the distracted child depending on a therapeutic jolt of Adderall to learn to read the constitution. For the stationary herds of industrial-strength cows so heavily doped with bovine growth hormone that they require massive infusions of antibiotic to survive the otherwise lethal atmospheres of their breeding pens. Visionary risk-takers, one and all, willing to chance what dreams may come on the way west to an all-night pharmacy. The war against human nature strengthens the fear of one's fellow man. The red, white, and blue pills sell the hope of heaven made with artificial sweeteners. http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/dec/10/war-drugs-alcohol-against-human-nature

So sayeth you. I did not hear the horse neigh. Best regards, RA1

Drug abuse is a sin and sinners must be punished, not mollycoddled. So sayth the Lord!

Oh my goodness!

As a life long citizen on Memphis, I certainly remember the day MLK was killed. A dark day for all. I am very sorry to say that I personally know some who regard the day to celebrate is April 4. It was an interesting time to be here and to be alive. An immediate curfew was instituted and National Guard troops were stationed here and there. There were demonstrations here and all over the US with violence and criminal activity (looting) somewhat rampant. I personally believe that the reason that downtown (and other parts) Memphis was not burned to the ground was that a freak snow storm covered the city with snow and several days of cold weather. Snow is pretty unusual in Memphis but an April snow storm is more than unusual. MLK was not a saint. He cheated on his wife and had other "peccadillos" but he certainly was an influence upon the US "scene" that likely needs to be repeated. Best regards, RA1

I've been to a "few"(insert chuckle) of Rio's Love Motels. Not an expert with an encyclopedic knowledge. But from the the most basic place across the street from the Campo de Sant'Anna to a mid-range place like the Hostal on Ave. Gomes Freire in Lapa, Lido in Copa as well as another around the corner from La Cueva to a much more luxe across the street from the Igreja Nossa Senhora da Gloria on the Largo do Machado, and also the tres-chic Scort Motel in Sao Conrado, and more than a few others in between, but I was unfortunately never offered a room comparable to the medieval whips and chains of the Shalimar. Woe is me. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/18/rio-de-janeiros-love-hote_n_2505766.html#slide=more275669

Please YES!

Imagine if he'd dreamed of bacon, or apricots instead of freedom. I mean, it's not like you can control your dreams.

Giving new meaning to pig bottom!

I've never used a pressure cooker but over the last month or so I've been starting to use a slow cooker (crock pot). I really find it an easy way to make soups, stews, chilis, gumbos, etc. The veggie chili does sound quite delicious. I love to try new variations of old standards, and I will definitely give this a try. I do notice that many of the veggie recipes I find rely on using a lot of beans. I love beans but the side effects can be quite annoying at times

For those interested and enjoy imbibing alcohol now and then, here is a link to some bacon booze concoctions: http://www.sloshspot.com/blog/01-22-2009/Bacon-Booze-Bacontini--Other-Delicious-Baconized-Beverages--106

There is bacon lube.

Does seem bacon ice cream has become a trend. http://m.washingtonpost.com/blogs/all-we-can-eat/post/burger-king-joins-the-bacon-ice-cream-party/2012/06/13/gJQAIhDHaV_blog.html

I love bacon and think it goes with just about anything. While this doesn't sound appealing to me I would definitely give it a try if it were true (which apparently it is not and is becoming an urban legend: http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/fooddrink/ss/Bacon-Flavored-Diet-Coke.htm). The closest thing to a drink I've had with bacon is a chocolate bacon milkshake...which was quite delicious

Sadly I have been unable to find a clip (or even a foto) of Daniel/Ginsberg getting his blow job on YouTube. Daniel states that the scene took about 1 1/2 to 2 hours to shoot, so I'm guessing it's more elaborate than a simple grab and gobble. Anyone have better luck than me? OK, OK, I have no class, no respect for the artistic integrity of the film, and ought to crawl back to my mobile home and keep quiet when my betters are speaking... but still, if anyone has the link, I would greatly appreciate you posting it for me!

Its not wine making, is it? Best regards, RA1

All my miles are with American. I usually use them on Cathay Pacific in first, twice a year to go to Bangkok. I just got back from being there for New Years, but I got such a good rate to fly AA to Tokyo and then Japan to Bangkok, i bought the ticket. AA was offering so many mile bonus last month the trip got me close to 60k more miles. Living in Ft. Lauderdale, Brazil is doable in coach if I have to, then use the miles for very long Asia trips. I also have system wide upgrades to use that helps a lot . AA isn't fare based like Delta to use upgrades.

If I met rimchair in real life, I might find him to be an interesting and likable guy. But the rimchair who posts here is getting tiresome with the constant digs at Noah. Is it not time to move on? I came to this thread to read about a plane, not to hear one more dig.

That's a good point, it was the typical Hollywood syndrome of not being able to tell any story except from the perspective of a white male. But on the other hand, Lincoln isn't really a movie about slavery, it isn't even really a movie about Lincoln. It's a movie about the 13th amendment. From *that* perspective it's pretty good.

This is so not an event in my life that it ranks below 'Housewives of Hoboken' on my drama list. This story smells like a week old fish. I leave his personal problems to himself and his family, and Notre Dame's credibility issues to the sports community. Over and out.