Max's Petting Zoo

New Reel- Now with 30% MORE NINJA!

2012-02-17T18:21:00.002-05:00

Updated to include NINJA REEL @ final 30 seconds!

Occupied

2012-02-17T00:44:00.010-05:00

My apologies for being so absent... has it been hard to go without? I know most of you die-hard fans have already killed yourselves after I disappeared last Fall...

There have been many many adventure since the last post. We've been between Miami, New York, California, Boston, DC, Jersey (the Andy Dick of states) Ohio (O, ya!), Aruba (yes, it's a state) and I hope a few dreams since the last update...There is some good news, though. Max Vicious is no longer technically 'homeless' and has decided to occupy an apartment on Wall Street after getting kicked out of Zucotti Park back in November (I feel safe divulging this information, as my recent stalker has been killed in a freak billiards-related accident.)

Occupied

Unoccupied.

Until Now

This is NOT to say I'm no longer a nomad (don't insult me). Things have been more centralized, but are by no means less exciting or hectic.

For now, enjoy a Vicious tour of New York Fuggin City.

Fashion WeekThey get brave in the Subways because they outnumber you a gazillion to one

Brooklyn. Because I am SO hood.

Okay, back to Wall Street before we get mugged. I can't take you fairies anywhere but fancy...Somebody "shushed" me in here last week. I haven't been shushed since middle school! There were a few billiards related accidents in this building. Kind of eerie.
Smokeable AstroTurf

What home is complete without 700+ pictures to cover your Wall?

The new secret spot.

The Legend of the White Russian

2011-11-15T15:01:00.001-05:00

Air Berlin took me from Dusseldorf to Miami. US Air took me to Charlotte. Since it was US Air (the Andy Dick of airlines... literally! A steward saw that I was returning the next day and invited me to a male strip-club in Ft. Lauderdale), I missed my connection to Milwaukee and spent the night in Charlotte. The hotel-shuttle driver was what Europeans calls “Superficially Nice” and made me very happy to be back in the states.

I got to Kohl’s in Milwuakee only a couple hours late the next day and found three friends sitting in the styling bay to which I was assigned. There was Pedro the Brazilian, Tristan the family-friendly black guy who they always pair me with in shots, and Torren who’s one of my favorite Canadian alcoholics. I gave everybody hugs and recollected the time last season in Miami when Torren got drunk and almost statutorily raped my underage roommate Littlefoot. It felt good to be home. I even brought a penis-shaped squirt-gun from Amsterdam for my favorite booker/sister Anton, but unfortunately he couldn’t find the time to leave his office/nest that day.

Something peculiar happened in Miami. I was extended an invitation to hang out with the one and only White Russian. Obviously anyone with a name like that should be pretty cool, but no! This woman is a legend!

My first encounter with the White Russian was during the shoot of a pilot for a reality-style show they were doing about my friends and I at the University of Miami. A beautiful metrosexual guy with an ancillary role in the show disappeared one night when we were filming at a club on South Beach. The next afternoon, a Phantom Rolls pulls up to the dorm towers. The driver walks out, opens the suicide-doors and out stumbles the beautiful Metroboy. My friend Dallas and I were out front when it happened. “Dude! The White Russian got you!” Dallas screamed. That afternoon Metroboy told us the story that so many other boys have recounted... to the best of their ability.

“We started making out at this club... Someone said she used to be some kind of supermodel or something and then married a billionaire... And we got in that car.” Metroboy put the words together as he downed a couple Tylenol and a bottle of water. “She pulled out her black Amex for... you know... and poured more champaign as we drove to her house... where she like, gave me a bath and taught me how to make love.” Dallas and I were laughing at this point, but Metroboy was 100% austere. “In the morning she told me that my shirt was now hers. She took a poloroid and said it was going on the wall in her other bedroom. I hope I hear from her again” But we knew he never would.

Upon hearing this story, I was a little wary about meeting the White Russian. It started at Kane for dinner and Champaign with three tall, blond Russian model-types. From there their leader (whom I can only assume was THE White Russian) ordered us into the car for more champaign on our way to a bar called Haven whose walls were covered in projections. It got a little blurry after that. There was a house party next, more champaign, somehow we all ended up on a boat blasting house music that took us to the White Russian’s palace on Hibiscus Island. Upon her command (and according to what I was told the next day), I wrestled in the pool, took vodka shots and then we all piled back into the disco boat to see the boat’s driver perform on a stripper-pole in his apartment.

The next day I was summoned again. I choked down some Tylenol and brought Anton’s penis/squirt-gun as an offering to the White Russian for her hospitality. I asked if we could see the legendary wall that’s covered in polaroids and comp-cards, but she declined saying that she had currently misplaced her key to the dungeon.

She also informed me that I was now engaged to be married to her friend in order to get her a Visa. I acquiesced to the order and her friend seemed pleased... We started going over trivia for the marriage-visa-people. It looked like I’d be walking down the aisle pretty soon. I asked the White Russian is being gay was a problem. She said it wasn’t, so long as people don’t find a dick in my mouth when they Google me (“How else are you supposed to Google?” I say)... I told her about my blog and the wedding was off.

Travel Day

2011-09-14T21:17:00.005-04:00

Within minutes of leaving customs I found myself questioning and responding to people in so many different languages that I felt like a walking Tower of Babel (as opposed to Digital Tower of Babel, RE this blog). It’s conflicting to re-enter American territory. There’s a whole different set of rules, guidelines and general no-no’s that must be adhered to in the Land of the Free. Here’s a short list detailing

HOW TO GRACEFULLY RE-ENTER AMERICAN SOCIETY FROM ABROAD

First and foremost, tear that bogus Canadian flag off your backpack. That can get you killed here.
Don’t ask about me. I’m not famous in this country yet, at least not under this name. In the USA I go by “Lady GaGa”
NEVER fly US AIR
Be as prepared as possible for TSA. Supposedly, Chap-stick is a liquid and shoes are the biggest threat to our country since Islam.
In customs, when asked “do you have any fruits/veggies/meat with you” it is rude to answer “Just in my sheiße. I think I'll opt for the cavity search”
It’s rude to ask the person searching your bag to smell your shoes and guess what sport you play.
It’s not rude, however to stick a lube-covered condom bag in your backpack and make them fish it out because you “forgot” to put it in the plastic bin separately. That’s fun for all involved.
Also, put your turban in your backpack, unless you’re into cavity searches... it gets kind of racist here.
Yes, they can see you naked with these scanners. And you can say no, but the result is far more degrading than just taking the nudie pic for the fat man in blue.
The N-word, K-word, C-word and S-word are all off-limits again. this only flies if the country you’re in doesn’t contain any (EX Germany, Poland, etc.)
No beer on the streets or in cars (not even golf carts, this country sucks)
No smoking pot in public (California/Vermont/Nevada excluded) SUBNOTE: We pass to the left in the states. In Australia the rotation is to the right (counterclockwise)
No dropping E in public
No coke in public (Miami excluded)
Prescription pills are okay. Actually, they’re compulsory.
Remember to tip, UNLESS your waiter/bartender/hooker/bellhop/driver doesn’t speak English, in which case you are teaching them a valuable cultural lesson.
Actually, tip everyone. Just throw money out of your pockets at all times. I recommend using Change because it has more impact (right, Obama?)
If you don’t have money, use your credit card to get cash back. Who cares if you’re in debt as long as everyone’s happy!? This is why everyone loves America.
Justin Beiber is cool here. You don’t have to hide it anymore, you’re in the land of the free. (We don’t know he’s Canadian yet) If you’re male, you’re expected to hyperbolize your love for him. Getting that swooshy haircut where you have to flip your hair every 15 seconds is a sign of high status in the social food-chain.*
You don’t have to pretend to like French people anymore.
Practice your Spanish, but forget all the other ones. Knowing Spanish makes you appear well-informed and compassionate to the help... but in reality there’s not need to speak anything but English.
Stay off Grindr. You know people here, and they recognize your faceless torso (or whatever it is you’re putting out there)
Make friends and strangers sit through your 4 hr travel-photo presentation, including those 200 fuzzy pictures of the moving lights you took on that weekend in Amsterdam. Make sure to embellish how much fun you had.
Public nudity is not okay (Miami Beach excluded)
Sex in airport bathrooms, frowned upon (although a great way to pass your longer connections...)
Water sports, rubber, leather... not big here (Kidding! We practically invented that shit... in a way similar to the pizza or hamburger)
The brown stuff, surprisingly not as popular as in Germany
Being a big homo is just being a big homo here. You can’t play it off as “European Style” because in the USA we call those people homos too.
Pedophilia rules still apply.
Although carrying a gun is not recommended, NEVER assume that person next to you doesn’t have one on them.
I’ll repeat: NEVER fly US AIR

I’m far too jet lagged to be any more upbeat in this post. I’ve missed my connection (on guess which airline, again!) and may not get to Milwaukee tonight. If all goes well, I’ll spend less than 24-hours in transit (3 of which will most likely be in the bathroom)

Happy Trails.

Max Jetlagged.

*Little known fact: some countries (EX Sweden) require you to have a Beiber Fever vaccination before they grant you a visa

The Muffin Troll, The Legacy

2011-09-13T11:49:00.001-04:00

AKA- Why I find don't smoke pot anymore. Enjoy.

Found a Fort

2011-09-13T11:40:00.006-04:00

This is where Germans would wait (and etc) while hunting for deer.

Right... deer...

You're not allowed.

Amsterdam- the Venice of Europe

2011-09-12T04:34:00.010-04:00

It all started with an innocent birthday-themed adventure to Amsterdam, the Venice of Europe.

We headed out to party and were wrangled (by a trustworthy-looking fellow wearing khakis) into an eccentric discount sex-show... The night got blurry after that, though that’s most likely the place where Sneaky Pete showed up.

I woke up a few hours later, though I'm not sure what time it was....

I didn’t realize that I was going to be part of the sex-show, what a treat! It's been a while since my performance potential has been utilized... Needless to say I got a little stage fright.

It was when I fully came-to the next day where Sneaky Pete and I got to know each other properly for the remainder of the adventure.

TRAVEL ALERT: it would behoove you to keep your distance from any green-eyed monkeys. Whether it be in a jungle, a club or even some dump with hipster-scum caked walls...

just say no to Sneaky Pete.

Dusseldorf

2011-09-09T11:24:00.010-04:00

The good relations with Phil didn’t last long. At least once/day we would fight and I would look online for a plane ticket out. There was nothing planned on my birthday. I was invited by a musician friend to a some music conference parties in Berlin, but Phil didn’t want to go because he’d been about 25 times this year. We had invites from other friends to hit Amsterdam, but Phil didn’t want to do that either. We started the day at the gym, which was good, but by 1pm we had nothing to do but sit around and play with our wieners... oh wait, Phil didn’t want to do that either. We spent the afternoon unsuccessfully shopping for a hanger-rod for his new closet (his true love, as he said at nauseum), having coffee and then getting Phil a reservation for the new iPhone 5 whenever it comes out.

Can you spot him in here? I can't either... I may even be in this, I'm not sure...

We were getting ready to go out to dinner when I asked Phil if I could open the box that four days ago he said contained my birthday present. He revealed that he was just teasing me, and that he hadn’t gotten me anything for my birthday. I don’t think I’m being too princessy to say that’s pretty fucked up... considering I spent thousands of dollars on flights and transport, put my life, friendships and career on hold to come spend time with him. I couldn’t even beg him to give me a massage... on my motherfuckin’ birffday! I didn’t freak out however, and calmly urged him to never do something like that again with someone he dates in the future. Despite the powerful urge to call him a self-absorbed nazi asshole, I simply shut my mouth until we got to dinner with Anthonia, her boyfriend and Phil’s friend Felix. Philip returned the favor, in fact he didn’t speak to me again for the rest of the night.

Having my cake...

I couldn’t sleep most of the night, so didn’t join Phil to the gym at 7am. Phil came back all sweaty and happy and jumped on me in the bed. The original plan was to go to Heidl Park (an amusement park) as a belated birthday trip... but I was still asleep and not in the mood to cuddle... so within five minutes Phil’s mood returned to shit.

I checked online and found that the job I was on hold for in Corsica had cancelled, but another booking for Kohl’s in Milwaukee had confirmed me for Thursday the 15th. I spoke with my friend J-Keeps, a crazy-fun homosexual who had just landed in Dusseldorf, and we planned a weekend in Amsterdam over Skype video. “You and your gays, Max” Phil rolled his eyes “Was that your plan B?”.

“No.” I said, “It’s plan A” I started packing as Phil called his friends and started talking shit. I think he underestimated how much German I’ve learned to speak this month. Wonderfully hurtful words were exchanged and I was back on the street again within half an hour. I bought some souvenirs (Cough!Sex toys!Cough!), then a German train pass and was in Dusseldorf before nightfall. It felt good to be out of a sick relationship, but felt bad leaving Phil more miserable, lonely and insecure than I’d found him in the first place. The trip was turning out to be a total bust.

J-Keeps was staying in his new boss’ house out in the boonies of Dusseldorf, about 16 kilometers from the central train station. My cab driver was a super-friendly local and together we stumbled through a decent conversation in Germinglish. He stopped to re-route the GPS and pick up a coke. I grabbed a beer at the convenience store (there’s no open-container law here) and when I went to pay for it, the cabby announced that he’d already gotten it for me. “This is Turkish man!” the guy behind the counter smiled, gesturing to my driver who’s name I’m embarrassed to say I forgot, “Turkish man good man!” I believed the clerk, unsure of why Phil and his friends had such a problem with them... the clerk made me high-five him before I could leave the store. The driver stopped the meter when it reached thirty, since we took the long way to avoid traffic on the highway. He dropped me off in front of Justin’s house and I was sad to see him go.

“Maxi is that you??” Justin said from behind the gate when I rang the bell... It seemed like a stupid question since I could see four cameras peering a me from above the fence. “Keeps!!!” “Hold on Maxi, I have no idea how to open the gate”

Eventually I was buzzed into an extravagant post-modern house (think Sprockets) overlooking manicured lawn smathered with security cameras on a big pond. We dropped my bags in the guest room downstairs, tossed back a few beers and were in the process of cooking dinner with Fabrice the French butler-slash-house-owners-ex-boyfriend came home and told us not to drink anymore beer. He popped open a bottle of champaign and poured three glasses as Justin and I fumbled to cook Fabrice dinner.

I confirmed my plane tickets as Keeps and Fabrice skyped the owner of the house who’s in Ibiza: on Wednesday I fly to Miami, then Milwaukee, then back to Miami, then LA, then NYC at the end of the month. I called my dad and regrettably informed him that I’d not be in Europe long enough this time to have him come visit me. We decided to plan a different trip at the beginning of October, once his new girlfriend goes back to Canada. He’s importing them now. Seems like a good idea... if this relationship doesn’t work out, he can just deport her.

We all went swimming in the indoor pool after the second bottle of champaign. Keeps and I were splashing around in board shorts, swimming against the infinity-pool-jet and singing along to the 90’s jams when Fabrice pranced in wearing a budgey-smuggler and holding another bottle of champaign. “So French!” I screamed as he clicked on the projector above the pool and dimmed the colored lights. “Wave to the cameras” Frabrice said, pointing to the outdoor security cameras that had just swung over to observe the pool. He explained that the cameras were controlled by the owner’s laptop and that he must be taking a break to check in on us for a minute. I pulled down my trunks and mooned the cold dark outside. Obviously. Fabrice taught us how we ought to use a sauna (so French) and then we all went to bed.

I spent the next day wandering Dusseldorf’s old town. Every so often, Phil’s beautiful ghost was beside me, pointing at various buildings and clapping his hands with gleeful irony “Look Max, Nazi buildings!”

22 in Pictures

2011-09-07T04:14:00.010-04:00

Today is my 23 Birthday. Instead of boring everyone with yet-another long-winded half-true narrative, I've decided to throw together a series of pictures highlighting the endless summer that is my 22nd year of life. Enjoy

Hamburg

2011-09-06T05:47:00.009-04:00

The trip to Hamburg from Liverpool wasn't easy. I was worried about taking another trip with Phil because about this time last year we did a road trip through Scandinavia with his friend Sabina for my 22nd birthday. For three days they didn't speak a word of English, except of course to quote Phil's Australian friend's ecstacy-induced babbling during some electro concert a week previous in London.

We didn't leave the festival grounds on account of being far too fucked up to even think about crossing the two miles of sobriety checkpoints the local police had set up. Phil and I slept in the back seat of the compact he'd rented. In the morning I couldn't tell whether my foot was asleep or frostbitten. We stopped at a Burger King (Epicurean by British standards) on the highway to the airport and encountered a half dozen girls who had been at the festival as well.

"You wasn't at Creamfields, was you?!" One of the Amy Winehouse look-alikes barked, "How come you're not covered in shit like the rest of us?!"
"Because we changed clothes before going to sleep, babe"
"You're not from here, are you?" and with that, she returned to her breakfast butty and resumed a conversation with her pink-haired sidekick.

We dropped the car off at Heathrow and took a bus to Luton airport four hours before our flight was scheduled to take off. Antonia and Phil were sleeping/quiet for majority of the trip until they saw a pair of hasidic Jews checking out price-tags in the gift shop next to where we were posted up. For about fifteen minutes they hated on the Jewish race until I raised my head form my hands and asked them to please speak in German again. I wandered off, bought Russel Brand's new Booky Wook 2 and absorbed myself in Brand's british celebrity gossip-babel until our flight was to take off. Both Phil and I expressed to Antonia (who had become our passive-aggressive conduit of sorts) our newfound worry as to whether or not my coming to visit was a good idea after all.

The first two days showed that it was a horrible idea. Philip and I couldn't see eye-to-eye on anything. He told me to shut the fuck up when he was on the phone, and I spent my second night in Hamburg in a hostel... It's the risk you take when you buy a one-way ticket to Europe based on a relationship that's been on hold for over a year.

The hostel was called A&O and was located in the Reeperbahn, Hamburg’s largest (but not only) red light district (actually the second largest in Europe, lucky me). I booked a bed in a 10-bed dorm. There was only one other person in the room, a skinny French boy named Alexand who was traveling alone.

The next day was the roughest. It started well enough when I discovered a French cookie left for me on the table by Alexand with a note saying “This is for you. Enjoy your day in Hamburg” I went to see my old agency Kult but got lost trying to find their new office. On the upside, I was able to practice my German... and my Spanish (because my German is such shit). I agreed to have lunch with Phil, but his attitude was still shit, so I decided to stay at the hostel. Within an hour of lunch, Moritz from Kult emailed me saying his associates decided I was too short for them to represent me this season.

I checked back into the hostel and locked up my stuff. There was a new guy in the room. He spoke only garbled German, looked about fifty and had a hunchback. I went out to dinner with Moritz from Kult and had a great time, but declined his half-joking offer to come up to his apartment for coffee and a joint.

There was an odd sound and smell emanating from the door to my dorm. I opened it and stepped into a room that smelled of a combination between wet dog food and stale crack smoke. The man with the hunchback had a fast-paced Michael Jackson song playing on his cell phone and was awkwardly dancing around the room with a beer in his hand. I pointed to my nose and asked “Was ist das?” to which the hunchback responded by apologizing and then changing the song to a different Michael tune. “Wo ist Alexand?” I asked, looking around for the crackpipe. When the hunchback turned away from me to execute a dance move, I notice a 4-5 inch long surgical scar on the top of his bald head.

It looked sort of like this:

“I am here” Alexand said meekly, poking his head out from beneath the covers of his bed. “I waiting for you to get back.” We transferred rooms and got to know each other a bit more before bed. He was off to Berlin at 7am the next morning, but left another packet of cookies for me with another note asking me to add him on Facebook.

I visited a new agency called M4. A stern blond woman took my portfolio and went into the bookers room speaking less than 5 words to me. A bald man came out, shook my hand, handed my portfolio back to me and said “I’m sorry you are too tiny for our market . 185 cm [6’ 1-2”] is our cutoff. Have a good day and good luck”

Phil asked me to have lunch again that afternoon. He is currently represented by M4 and reminded me that it may have gone better if he were there. I was rather resentful at this point and mentioned that I didn’t care too much, since I was only in Germany to see him and that had gone to shit. Modeling for me has always been a means of access more than a final goal. Phil apologized and once-again expressed his conflict concerning the temporary nature of me being in Hamburg... and that he knew his behavior was only going to cut my visit even shorter. He promised to stop being a dick (I paraphrase) and asked me to come back and stay with him. I accepted and stopped by the hostel to get my bag from the concierge.

It took a few minutes to get my bag, as an angry black woman was being arrested in the lobby. I told her "Be strong, Sister" and she took a swing at me, though I doubt she spoke English.

So far working in Europe has been a big fat bust. I’m too buff for London and too short for Germany. My mother agent wants me to go to Italy, but I’m not a big fan of Milan. I’ve decided to hang in Hamburg until at least my birthday on Weds Sept 7 and then decide on what do to once more information makes itself available. I'll do my best to survive until then.

Can you tell they work at the Hamburg Hollister store?

Rick Day, Summer 2011

2011-09-03T12:18:00.002-04:00

Where's the line?

Gettin' Sum E-Love

2011-09-03T04:16:00.000-04:00

http://favoritehunks.blogspot.com/2011/09/max-emerson-let-wild-rumpus-start.html
http://favoritehunks.blogspot.com/2011/09/max-emerson-by-rick-day.html

CreamFields Liverpool- Sun Aug 28, 2011

2011-09-02T14:35:00.014-04:00

Just Say NO to drugs...

This is one of my favorite parts of England. It reminds me of mainland China, except the people in China were easier to communicate with...

Later, this chick approached me and asked if I had "The Tame"

Kickin' it in the Kook Tent, sponsored by HTC Mobile and a bunch of dorks :-)

The ONLY time/place combination where being called a Mud Monkey isn't offensive.

Meet our New Best Friend, George. He's moderately evil, but still cool.

It's taken a week to post this as I've just now begun to recover. I think our eyes are still dilated...

Champs Sports.

2011-08-31T04:56:00.002-04:00

Filmed in Jersey. Surprised?

-London-

2011-08-30T17:30:00.008-04:00

I've stopped blogging (and writing in general) for quite a while now, failing to realize the point of it all. But then I remembered that most artists are appreciated years after they've spattered their brains against a wall or choked on their own vomit at the age of 27... and for some reason that inspired me to continue. So here goes:

The flight departed Milwaukee at 7pm. I was in town shooting for the Kohl’s catalogue Monday and Tuesday, August 22-23, 2011. I was in Miami for four days before then, New york for a week before, and Costa Rica for the 6 days previous. Supposedly I’m living in New York these days, but it certainly doesn’t feel like I live anywhere. The entire purpose of this journey is to meet my Arian ex-boyfriend Philip in London, attend a concert near Liverpool and head back to Hamburg with him. The tickets are all one-way. There was a stopover in Chicago and the following red-eye flight took me into London Heathrow at 11am. It took a little while to find my way to Bundy’s place. London is one of those older cities where nothing in its infrastructure makes any sense.

Bundy opened the door and greeted me as friendly as any posh-boy would, with a backhanded compliment about my shoes. I dropped off my bags, confirmed agency appointments for the morning and we set off to the south shore for lunch. Bundy insisted we have a beer at lunch and then go row-boating on the serpentine in Hyde Park. He bought wine on the way and snuck it onboard. He lounged at the stern of the boat and took pictures as I rowed shirtless around the little area designated, loudly challenging every little rowboat full of tourists to race. Whenever the patrol boat zoomed by with its 10 HP outboard we had to hide the wine and pretend that we were sober. He got scared as we drifted into a pile of swans that looked like they were going to attack, and warned me very seriously how well-protected the queen’s bird was in this city.

Afterward we walked into Soho, which is like the hardcore version of Chelsea in New York or WeHo in LA. I told Bundy that with agency appointments tomorrow, I should take it easy. Bundy shrugged and walked on down the street literally filled with homos in suits downing endless amounts of booze. Apparently the national pastime is drinking and talking shit. We started out at a posh bar and then Bundy announced that since we were sufficiently 'Leathered' it was time for him to take me to a trashier place across the street called G-A-Y. 'It's a right of passage for any gay boy in London' It wasn’t even dark out when a crew of boys walked in wearing leather and rubber and collars (Oh My!) I felt compelled to be a tourist to borrow the man holding the leash’s whip and take a picture with the gang.

Bundy came downstairs around noon the next day and announced that he was feeling 'absolutely wretched'. He had a glass of water in his hand and nearly spilled it on me when he fell asleep sitting on the end of the couch that was my bed. At two I went to a a large agency called Storm. A thin, pale, non-smiling man told me I was the wrong type for their agency and sent me on my way within ten minutes. My next appointment was with a smaller agency called Nevs who represents my friend Mich. Their men’s booker wasn’t in town, but a very official Kenyan woman with big upper lip took my polaroids and told me they’d let me know. I went over to Mich’s afterwards and we had lunch before playing ninja in a park near his house. Bundy begrudgingly took us to Shoreditch House (think soho house) that evening for $20 personal pizzas and $15 drinks by the rooftop pool. His mates brought us to the Playboy club afterwards for free booze. Bundy and I slipped off when the group went to a club called Bungalow 8 where they knew a guy providing more free booze.

I was up bright and early at 11am on Friday. I had two more appointments with London’s top men’s agencies. The first was on Drury Lane, and I was disappointed to find not a single muffin man, or muffin shop. Not even a shite Starbucks muffin! Both agencies were very nice. They took my portfolio back for their colleagues to see (some of whom came out and greeted me). Both regrettably told me that I was simply too tan, muscular and commercial for the London market. The booker from Models 1 pointed to a picture on the wall of a skinny pale boy with tattoos and told me how that is the look this season. Both agencies offered to represent me in February-April when clients shoot Spring and Summer stuff. I left their offices with my ego between my legs, wondering how much heroin I wold have to do to become that type of model.

Mich came by Bundy’s place that evening and we went to have dinner with another posh friend who told us all about the new airline he was planing to open. The meal was over seventy bucks a person, and Mich was pissed when we had to pay for ourselves. The posh boys bowed out as Mich and I left to meet up with his promoter friends at a bar before hitting a club with a questionable reputation called Jalous (think Jealous, but pronounced in a really snooty way). Bundy said he’d leave a key under the flower pot and then mentioned that his roommate would be up early so I should sleep in his bed with him that night.

Phillip and his close friend Antonia flew in at 7pm and met us at the bar around 10. When they arrived, I ran over to Phil and gave him a huge hug. He awkwardly patted me on the back and looked around. Antonia gave me a real hug. Mich came over and within minutes of meeting them bragged that he acquired MDMA from a friend and wanted to try it for the first time. Drugs tend to sketch me out, so I stayed quiet. Phil announced that he and Antonia had some as well and were already soaring. The whole conversation made my stomach lurch. We got to Jalous and dropped our jackets in VIP (yeah, jackets... London’s fucking freezing in August). Phil and Mich ducked out for a line and I followed along to make sure they didn’t get arrested. They were drunk and bumbling in the process and I was about to lose it as they racked up their rails on the street behind a quiet construction site. They made one for me and I tried it. My eyes were watering as we re-entered the club. The big bald bouncer at VIP was an asshole and pretended to not remember Phil and I when we tried to get back in. Mich and Antonia brought us drinks and we hung out in the main area until the bald bouncer left his post to drag a drunk outside by the throat.

The rest of the night was a blur... we were joined by a pair of Asian girls that liked to jump on us, shots, some guy who looked like Jack Sparrow, outside cigarette breaks, large group photo, Jack Sparrow’s girlfriend accusing me of giving away her champaign, Antonia asking to have a threesome, more shots. The club closed around 4 and Phil jumped into a strangers car headed for an after party.

A spanish-speaking guy in a track suit tried to pick a fight with me as Antonia and I walked to get a cab to hit the same party. He was beating the crap out of a drunk when we passed back by them in the cab. The after party got too crowded and Jack Sparrow kicked everyone except his close friends out. Phil, Antonia and I ditched the Asian girls on the street, found a cab and snuck into the hostel at which they only booked on bed. It was dark and cold and I slept in Phil’s twin bed. It was the first affectionate moment he’d given me so far. He asked is we could fuck, but I said no since their were about 12 other people sleeping in the room.

It took us several hours to get back to Bundy’s for my stuff the next day. A group of four Asian men in suits took Phil’s picture for a few minutes as he laid on a bench waiting for the bus. I got my bags and we had lunch with some friends of mine from college before heading to Heathrow to pick up the rental car.

All day and in the car I felt like a guilty, brain-damaged toxic waste dump with no purpose in life. London had thoroughly kicked my ass.

Miami Gay and Lesbian Film Festival

2011-04-11T14:12:00.000-04:00

http://www.mglff.com/blog/

http://www.mglff.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Program%20Book%20v12.pdf

Press for Made in Miami

2011-03-01T16:12:00.003-05:00

http://miamiherald.typepad.com/gaysouthflorida/2011/04/made-in-miami-to-feature-local-movies-artists-tonight-at-miami-gay-lesbian-film-festival.html

http://miamiherald.typepad.com/gaysouthflorida/2011/04/gallery-local-filmmakers-attend-made-in-miami-screenings-at-miami-gay-lesbian-film-festival.html

http://www.soulofmiami.org/2011/04/21/local-filmmaker-max-emerson-debuts-two-films-during-miami-gay-and-lesbian-film-festival-2011-42611/

http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2011/04/local_filmmaker_premieres_two.php

http://premierguidemiami.com/local-filmmaker-max-emerson-debuts-two-films-during-miami-gay-and-lesbian-film-festival-2011/

http://www.citysbest.com/miami/news/2011/04/25/film-maker-comes-out-at-miami-gay-and-lesbian-film-festival-2011/

http://www.examiner.com/events-in-miami/filmmaker-max-emerson-debuts-two-films-during-miami-gay-and-lesbian-film-fest

http://www.miamiartzine.com/issue_main.cfm?btitle=max+emerson&id=1643&keyx=707692561

Love. Hate. Nature

2011-02-09T13:50:00.000-05:00

http://shopping.icp.org/store/product.html?product_id=32273

Only the best publicity, Thanks Terance

2010-10-08T07:06:00.001-04:00

The Model Journal- Part 1

2010-08-10T05:15:00.001-04:00

There is a large journal that sits next to the phone in the PT Boys’ Model Dorms. It has a light leather cover with “Ancient Chinese Secrets” written elegantly in red Sharpie. The pages within are filled with the advice and experiences of former PT models. This is the first entry:

“Greetings, new guy! Welcome to Shanghai!
At this point you’ve probably realized that you’re not in Canada anymore and that you’ll need to be very adaptive to survive and thrive in this city. To start off, here is a list of things you should probably know before stepping out into the wild:

Basic Shanghai Survival Guide
Etiquette:
Staring is not considered impolite.
Don’t take your shirt off in public or you’ll spend the entire afternoon taking pictures with local girls all making the Peace Sign.
Spitting in public isn’t rude. In fact, the way you spit says a lot about you! According to Chinese superstition, a white loogie signifies high status, yellow is virility, green is a sinus infection and black is sterility. The bigger the loogie, the more street-cred you will inevitably earn. The distance, height and accuracy of the launch all count in the overall scoring, too. Watch the locals... the guys/ladies in pajamas tend to be especially good.
Public urination isn’t exactly taboo, but it’s not a sport like spitting because women can’t compete.
Go ahead and smoke/drink anywhere. ANYWHERE! Bars, restaurants, convenience stores, taxis, churches/temples, hospitals and pre-schools are all fair game.
People here don’t customarily shake hands, probably for sanitary reasons
If you fall asleep in the taxi after the clubs, you are responsible for paying the extra hundred quay that the driver racked up while you were out.
Tip if you get the happy ending.
If a dog’s ears and tails are dyed neon, it’s not intended for food.

Health:
1) Don’t drink a lot of the water at first. Even the beer can do you in.
Street-meat is China’s greatest gift. Don’t listen to people who tell you that you the meat isn’t safe. It’s the cheapest, most delicious food you’ll ever find. Plus, there’s no such thing as an MSG overdose. 1.3 Billion people can’t be wrong!
Take off your shoes in the apartment, for sanitary reasons
Don’t take any dumpster-babies home, for sanitary reasons
There is a gym down the street. Call the agency to arrange a membership.
If you don’t want to pay for the gym, you can either dance with the girls at the various nearby spas in the morning or use the exercise equipment behind our building. Please note: nobody has figured out how to use the exercise equipment yet.
Believe it or not, the traffic here is more afraid of you than you are of it. As long as you cross the street slowly, you can probably do it blindfolded!
Don’t get scared or offended when the traffic honks at you. Honking, yelling and burping are all considered affectionate gestures by Chinese standards.
***Many Chinese words sound like inappropriate English words. Don’t get offended! For example: The word “Nigga” in Chinese is the equivalent of “That” in English.
Slapping someone with a Peking duck is believed to bring increased fertility... but a Beijing duck brings herpes.
“Cantonese Duck” means “Cat”... It’s actually not so bad.
Playing the crazy-chinese-dice-game for longer than ten minutes can do some serious damage to your liver.

Enjoy your first glimpse of Shanghai. Make sure to check out the next section before hitting your first castings!

The Canadian in China

2010-08-10T05:07:00.000-04:00

Last week I welcomed my new roommate Xander to the Shanghai model-lifestyle. When I met him at the guys’ dorm, he had the look of someone who had been traveling twenty six hours. His first words to me were “Holy hell, I’m in China!”

“Even I still say that every couple days, and I’ve been here a month!”

“I just went for a walk... the people just STARE at you. They’re so weird!” Xander is a twenty-year-old, six-foot-three Canadian with blond hair and green eyes. His shirt had the sleeves cut off and the sides were torn out, showing off his guns, abs and of course the crack of his ass. His eyes had dark circles below them, but he wouldn’t sit down. “I think we live across the street from a whorehouse! I walked away from there towards the street where I saw the Starbux on the drive in and saw a little kid taking a dump next to the sidewalk! He didn’t even pull down his pants; there was like a hole in the back of them!”

I tossed Xavier a bottle of Tsingtao and said “Welcome to Wonderland”. He passed out before finishing the beer.

We had only one casting the next morning. Lauren, Paolo and I took Xavier to Qipu Lu for the real China experience. We all spent most of our weekly advance from the agency on designer knockoffs, had some legit China food (Xander especially like the dish we affectionately named “Moose Knuckles”) and then split a cab home. In just one day, China had exhausted Xander and cleaned his wallet. “Can you get MSG poisoning?” He said, “ don’t think I’m gunna survive this crazy place”

Paolo and I decided to take him out for a little expat fun and show him how the models in Shanghai party. The first stop was the party at Hamilton House near the Bund. The models have been anticipating this opening for weeks! There was an upscale crowd, live DJ and wine that didn’t contain MSG! Unfortunately the models there too late for the party and just hung out as if it was an upscale casting that served good wine. “It’s an early spot. We’ll try again tomorrow.” I said after making plans with the rest of the gang.

Xander wasn’t as disappointed as I thought he’d be. “Real meat!” Xander almost cried when they brought him a plate of chicken that didn’t still have the feet and head attached.

After Hamilton, the models marched M1, but Paolo and I took Xander to Mint first. The girls from our Agency were already there in skimpy bunny-suits and pouring shots down to open, upturned mouths from atop the bar. After a couple rounds of that crazy-Chinese-dice-game, we jumped in a cab headed for Mao with three girls in bunny-suits bouncing around the back. It’s a good thing we’re not allowed to drive here!

Xander woke up this morning with the look of someone who had been traveling seventy two hours. “I don’t know if I’ve ever drank that much” He groaned from his bed next to mine. “What do we have to do today?”

“Gym, castings, dinner, then party. It’s Friday; the weekend’s just getting started!”

“I don’t think I’m going to survive this place” Xander rolled out of bed. Light poured into the blacked-out room when he opened the door to the hallway. In that instant, a very distressed-looking bunny from a different agency popped out of the Paolo’s room, waived ‘Hello/Goodbye’ and scurried out the front door. She was missing her fluffy little tail. Xander’s mouth hung open as memories from the night before came back. “What the Hell?” He asks me.

“Welcome to Wonderland” I toss him an extra water-bottle from next to my bed, flipped onto my back and adjusted the covers with no intention of getting out of bed before noon.

College Silent Shorts... Eat em up

2010-03-22T15:22:00.000-04:00

Epic

2010-03-22T12:47:00.003-04:00

Making it in New York City is difficult, even when you’re willing to sell your body. I spent my summer vacation as the Shirtless Dude in front of the new Hollister Epic store in Soho and it was far from the easy day job that the Abercrombie/Hollister Corporation’s recruiters -- similar to the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz -- made it out to be.

My mother didn’t want me to leave the safety of Florida to try my hand at modeling. “The people out there are predators,” she said as I took my bags from the car at the airport, “Please just promise me you’ll keep your pants on?”

My new agents at Q Models told me that I got to the city just in time for “Back to School Season” and immediately had me on multiple castings and go-sees. As the summer progressed the castings become more sporadic, I began searching for a lucrative day job that would aid in my mission to save money for next semester. That’s when the recruiters found me and swooped me into the Corporate Office. Adrian my recruiter told me that working at Hollister would be nothing like the Abercrombie model-jail where every model’s left shoe is permanently glued to a well-lit spot on the floor. They promised that the job would be more laid back with less perfume and an extra hundred bucks per shift. Sold.

I went to the “Shirtless Dude Casting” and met with Jen the training manager. If the recruiters are the Flying Monkeys of the Corporation, Jen is the Wicked Witch of the West… After my initial interview, Jen took me aside and simply said, “Look Max, we really like your look and your energy. You’re going to make it to call-backs where you’ll be meeting Mike Jefferies and the other heads of the Corporation. I want to give you some advice: if you act gay at all, you’re not going to get the position. You’re the only gay Shirtless Dude candidate and I don’t want that to be the reason you don’t get it.” Do I really act that gay? I was always thought that I didn’t have any of the usual gay mannerisms -- other than some style. I was slightly offended and I didn’t know why.

I managed to put my fairy wings back in the closet and was offered the job. On the opening day of the new Hollister Epic Store they gave all of their teenage employees unlimited energy drinks. It was hard to keep everyone in his or her well-lit positions for the first hour of the “soft-opening”. Jen ran past my post -- probably to get some more model-glue -- and snapped at the vibrating seventeen year old next to me, “Grace, calm down. You’re going to scare the customers!” Grace jumped up and down, nodding. “Never mind. Why don’t you get changed for the fragrance room? I think I need Max to break one of the Lifeguards out front.” She smacked me on the ass on her way into the staff-area.

Excited to get out of the Epic Dungeon, I threw on the Lifeguard uniform; a pair of Risky Business style sunglasses, white zinc (for the nose) and some red Lifeguard swim-trunks that were two inches too wide in the waist. I went to the front of the store to find my co-Lifeguard rocking the same infamous Hollister ‘Top-Dick’ look. When I congratulated my co-worker on his “Most excellent TopDick,” he looked away awkwardly and pulled up his trunks.

It wasn’t until I started posing for cheesy tourist pictures outside that I finally realized: my company is the guy-version of Hooters! Instead of boobs and junk food, Hollister offers Top-Dick and preppy clothes. My co-Lifeguard didn’t seem to be having a good time -- apparently straight guys aren’t allowed to smile in cheesy tourist photos. Is smiling too gay? I tried to cheer the straight, struggling model up with “Hey man, this job ain’t so bad. At least we’re going to be Facebook celebrities!” He cracked a smile as we posed for a picture with a giggling little Asian girl. I liked being their fantasy boyfriend. Does that make me a closeted lifeguard?

The sun was setting when everything went to hell. Some guy with an obnoxious Brooklyn accent asked me to take a picture with his blushing, prepubescent daughter. After the flash, her skinny toe-headed brother was pushed forward. The little guy whipped off his shirt and struck a muscle-pose in front of me. I mimicked the pose, but as soon as my arms were in the air the Brooklyn father yelled, “Now!” The little blond brat pulled my sagging baggies down to the ground. Before I even realized that I was flashing all of Broadway, the kid instantly resumed his muscle-pose and smiled as his father’s camera flashed again. The family ran away as the laughing crowd pulled out their camera-phones and took as many pictures as they could before I pulled up my pants. I prayed that my mom would never get on Facebook.

Jen swooped out of the store on her broomstick. She’d watched the whole thing on her crystal ball inside. She was laughing. When she asked me if I was okay, she actually seemed to care for a split second. “You’re doing a great job out here, Max. I’m glad you are on the team.”

My first summer in New York and to survive I was closeted, humiliated, and welcomed to the team of flying monkeys. Just when I was ready to give up I got a call from my agent: I booked the new Hollister campaign photo-shoot! I’ll be shooting with Bruce Webber on a beach somewhere in Australia for almost a week! I asked my agent if they said anything about me being too gay. She paused and I braced myself for it. “Max, there are plenty of handsome guys. They picked you because you are who you are. Just relax and get ready for a week in Oz!”

Epic-shoot

2010-03-22T12:42:00.005-04:00

I learned a bunch from shooting with Mr Bruce Webber at the summer '09 Hollister shoot. Thanks!

2009-04-23T11:34:00.003-04:00

Max’s Petting Zoo presents…

“Artists for Sale”

…at the Edgar Ace Gallery!

MIAMI, FL – In this rough economy, local student/model Max Emerson and twin artists Paul and John Physioc have been forced to find residence in the Edgar Ace Gallery for the last days of their semester at the University of Miami.

“It just sucks that three smart, handsome, very well-endowed kids can’t manage to pay the bills.“ Says Paul Physioc, “I’m not saying our lives suck, though… In fact, Mr. Ace even said we could throw a party!”

For a ten-dollar donation (“waived w/ any art purchase”), guests are permitted to explore the boys’ abode, hang out late and check out art from a variety of UMiami students. Complimentary drinks will be offered ‘college-style’.

Max had this to say; “’Artists For Sale’ is a one-night-only interactive exhibition geared towards raising money for student artists. We haven’t sidled up with a popular charity because we ARE a charity! We’re inviting the normally not-so-artistic art community into our lives because we want their support. We also want them to question what the word ‘art’ is even supposed to mean. Yeah Paul, John, Jean-Paul, Ricardo, Mackenzie, David, Oscar, Dane and everyone else are talented and produce great work… painting, drawing, film, whatever… But who’s to say my underpants can’t be art?”

Although the gallery closes at one AM, these three boys aim to entertain all night long! One lucky attendee will even win a second date with the three boys during the ten o’clock raffle!

“I know the porn convention is going to be in town that whole week…” John said during his interview, “I’m going to work my magic and see if I can get a few friends to show up! ”

“Artists for Sale” Takes place on Saturday, May 9 from 8:00PM-1:00AM

The Edgar Ace Gallery (in Miami’s Design District):

7520 NE 4^th Ct. Miami, FL 33138

Please COME!

2009-04-16T02:53:00.000-04:00

Hurricane

2009-02-20T11:40:00.002-05:00

‘Dog Sees God’ a counter-culture satire

Posted February 18, 2009 at 8:10 pm

By Danielle Kaslow // Contributing EDGE Writer

From the start, Dog Sees God is provocative and upfront. Coupled with sexual experimentation, drug use, eating disorders and violence, Charles Schulz’s beloved Peanuts characters are back in action in the Jerry Herman Ring Theatre’s production of this satire. Don’t expect to see the same innocent Charlie Brown or Lucy of comics past, as the play’s characters are all hormonal, teenage versions of the Peanuts characters we know and love.

CB, also known as Charlie Brown, is reeling from the death of his beloved Snoopy. He ponders life and death and questions the existence of heaven, trying to connect with his friends to find solace. Along with the audience, he discovers his childhood friends are very different people today; each has changed after overcoming loss and obstacles in their adolescence. Their experiences have shaped them into the characters audiences see before them on stage, though they clearly remain informed by their comic book counterparts.

“If you think of who the Peanuts characters were in the comic strip around age 8, and fast forward eight or 10 more years, their neuroses follow what Schultz set up,” said Vince Cardinal, chair of the theater department and director of Dog Sees God. “For example, it’s appropriate that Linus, who always fantasized and was lost in his thoughts, is now the pothead. Who they were in the comic develops to what you will see on stage.”

Angst-filled, aggressive, and self-conscious, the characters are both honest and believable. The actors of Dog Sees God have honed their skills to put forth a shocking and thought-provoking performance.

Max Emerson, who plays Matt (an older Pigpen), said, “I think people will learn that theater is not passive. Old people will [probably want to] walk out within the first scene…I think the word ‘fuck’ is said more than five times in one minute.

“But the content can be strong, because the message is so strong,” said the senior. ” It’s putting the cartoons in the real world.”

In Dog Sees God, the Peanuts characters are used as a means to explore more adult themes and difficult topics, ones people often feel uncomfortable discussing. However, familiarity with the characters allows the audience to be receptive to the play’s message and feel less intimidated by the plotline. Dog Sees God is a play about real issues, how people deal with them and finding one’s sense of self.

Additionally, sophomore Tim Murray, who portrays CB, believes the play extends an important message of self-respect.

“We all have our own personal rain clouds, and when CB embraces his rain cloud at the end of the play it is a message to everyone to accept who you are, because you cannot change it and there is no reason why you should want to,” he said. “Every day of rehearsal I’m reminded of how important it is to tell this story, and that’s an amazing thing.”

If You Go:

What: Dog Sees God

When: Feb. 19, 21, 25, and 27 at 8 p.m., and Feb. 22 and 28 at 2 p.m.

Where: Jerry Herman Ring Theater

Cost: Weeknights and matinees: $6 for students, Friday and Saturday nights: $8 for students.

"You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown" and "Dog sees goD"

2009-01-26T10:51:00.004-05:00

Upcoming at UM Ring Theatre: Adults only and a family classic

From The University of Miami Jerry Herman Ring Theatre:

Dog Sees God: Max Emerson, Tim Murray and Katie McClellan. (Click photo to enlarge.)

The University of Miami Jerry Herman Ring Theatre continues their 2008 – 2009 season of music, romance and comedy. Classic comic strip characters take the stage in two plays running in repertory at the Jerry Herman Ring Theatre located at 1312 Miller Drive on the University of Miami’s Coral Gables campus.

The Ring Theatre presents the family classic You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Based on the comic strip "Peanuts" by Charles M. Schulz, the musical invites audiences of all ages to join the beloved Charlie Brown, Lucy, Snoopy, Schroeder, Linus, and Sally as they encounter the wonders of childhood. From Charlie Brown's disappointments on Valentine's Day to Snoopy's flying ace doing battle with the nefarious Red Baron, everyone's favorite Peanuts' moments are brought to life in this lighthearted performance.
Due to popular demand, You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown has added an extra week. Performances are February 18, 20, 26, 28 and March 4 – 7 at 8 pm, and February 21, March 1 and 7 at 2 pm. Ticket prices for weeknights and matinees: Regular admission: $18; Seniors, UM faculty/staff/alumni: $16; Students: $8. Friday & Saturday nights: Regular admission: $22; Seniors, UM faculty/staff/alumni: $18; Students: $10.
In conjunction with You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, the Ring Theatre will also be showcasing the surprise Off-Broadway hit by Bert V. Royal, Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead. The play poses the question, “What happens to the comic strip gang after they become angst-obsessed teens?” This satirical take on America’s favorite comic strip will surely please adult audiences and help them to imagine life after childhood for these characters. Dog Sees God contains adult language and themes along with graphic content. It is not suitable for children or young teens.
Performances of Dog Sees God are February 19, 21, 25, and 27 at 8 pm, and February 22 and 28 at 2 pm. Ticket prices for weeknights and matinees: Regular admission: $16; Seniors, UM faculty/staff/alumni: $14; Students: $6. Friday & Saturday nights: Regular admission: $18; Seniors, UM faculty/staff/alumni: $16; Students: $8.
To purchase tickets, contact the box office Monday – Friday between 12:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m. at 305-284-3355. For more information and to purchase tickets online, log on to www.miami.edu/ring. The theatre is wheelchair accessible, has handicapped parking, and offers free infrared hearing devices. Parking is free and plentiful adjacent to the theatre.
The University of Miami’s mission is to educate and nurture students, to create knowledge, and to provide service to our community and beyond. Committed to excellence and proud of our diversity of our University family, we strive to develop future leaders of our nation and the world. www.miami.edu.

Charlie Brown: Robb Nanus, Matthew Mickenberg and Kate Metroka. (Click photo to enlarge.)

Feb 18- March 1 @ the Jerry Herman Ring Theatre
www.miami.edu/ring

Test2- It's gunna be a good year

2009-01-06T23:07:00.002-05:00

Fart Basel Award, 2008!

2008-12-22T20:26:00.033-05:00

Cutest Couple: Max/Terrence Koh

Best Dressed: Max
Most Camera Shy: Max

Drunkest Asshole: Max

Most Easily Entertained: Max (ass always)

Most Coke Blown: Actually, This one goes to Terrence Koh (again)
Gayest Prisoner: Andrew

Worst Warhol Impression: Andrew
Biggest Art-Related Injury: Andrew
Most Eyes: Andrew (it was close!)

Biggest Snake Between the Legs: Max (as usual!)

Most Arms Wrestled: MAX!

Gayest Time Ever: MAX!

Most Rude to Tourists: Max!

Nicest Local Ever: Andrew
Gayest Presentation of Gayest Car Ever: Max!
Whitest African Chick Ever: Lissy!

Most Opposed to Rubber: Andrew
Most Ambitious: Max!
Most Observant: Max

Loudest: Andrew
Biggest Meat-Licker: Max
Best Kitty: This one.
Biggest Fear of Sequins: Max
Fuzziest Black People Ever: These things!

Most Racially Accepting: Max!
Biggest Phonies Ever: These guys!
Most Allergic to Real Dogs: Andrew
Most Telekinetic: Max!

Ugliest Baby Ever: MaxDrew

I WIN!

Over a year ago in LA (Memories :-)

2008-12-09T16:17:00.003-05:00

kohboard

2008-11-02T12:41:00.001-05:00

2008-09-17T20:36:00.002-04:00

0

\

Is Max Too Cool For the Pool?

2008-08-25T16:21:00.014-04:00

Recently, the question has been raised (again):

Is it Possible to know TOO MANY GAYS?

This time, the answer was "yes"

My tonsils had been removed just a week ago. Dad wanted to do it, said it's been awhile since he's been inside the mouth of someone under seventy and wanted to give it a shot.
I said "Fuck you father, you're a dentist. It hurts enough when I get my teeth cleaned!" I recalled the time getting them bleached in his office; hell, it's impossible to forget. I cant still hear my teeth screaming! It seems odd that my own father would forget that I am allergic to radiation.

The REAL doctor for the tonsilectomy used too much anesthetic for the procedure and didn't give me enough to bring down to Miami with which to recover. He said 500 ML of liquid hydrocodone would be plenty for my recovery, but upon waking after the surgery I found the bottle half empty! It was 3:00 in the afternoon, and my mother was at work. I couldn't bother her, and I felt rude waking my brother up to ask him if he had seen the other half of my prescription painkillers... so I ended up going without.

My roommate Nick sent me an invitation to a party via Facebook. One look at the guest list, and I think "fuck those faggots!". It was a "Back to School Pool Party" and I had more desire to see the cast of The View on a stripper pole together than I did to watch these twinky little fairies prance around a pool deck for four hours of my last free Friday afternoon. I RSVP with a polite "Maybe".

Nick messages me two hours later, telling me that I'm going to added as an administrator to the party and that I should invite people. "Uhh, Okay Nicky" I chirp as I accept the title and prepare to invite the School's football team. Upon closer inspection of the event, I learn that the party is being thrown at OUR APARTMENT. I groan so loud that my phantom tonsils hurt.

By Friday I was down to about three doses of painkillers, give or take an extra perkiset saved for a rainy day. Waking up after a twelve-hour coma-esque nap, Nick surprises me with good news: The party is postponed until Sunday. This is great.... Until Saturday night, when I wake up at 4am and realize that the little brown bottle of magic is finally at its end. The night turns into mourning as Will and Grace references, voices from Planet Unicorn, and gossip about Madonna's new tour terrorizes my brain. "Will I make it through this party?", "Will they think I'm not hip and tell their Daddy's to put a hit on me?", "Is there going to be unwanted sex in my bedroom?", "Am I going to commit a hate crime?...Is it a hate crime if I'm gay too?...Or is that domestic abuse?!

Nick convinces me to look at the possitive. Maybe I can get my hair styled, or someone will give me a massage... He makes appetizers that I can't eat and hands me the phone to give directions to one of his friends. The words don't come out clearly, the inside of my throat is essentially a chucky-doll of nerve endings. They ask me to repeat the directions... "Fruck Roff!" I gargle as I hand the phone back to Nick.

I camp-out, reading in a deck chair as the crowd begins to arrive. I find an attractive guy, but it turns out he simply lives in the building... with his wife... and was just out tanning on a whim (a pretty gay whim, in my opinion). Nick takes my book away and tells me not to be anti-social.

It becomes apparent that I'm not wearing enough bathing suits. In their own time, everyone at the party cat-walks out to the pool, puts down their sangria and strips off their first bathing suit to reveal some kind of banana hammock or another. Nick didn't take my phone, so I end up texting noteable quotes to my poor boyfriend back in New York City. NOTE: these are all very real quotes:

"Stop! I don't want to get these board shorts wet."

"Shut up! I broke a hundred pounds today... I feel like such a pig."

"Oh my God! I thought this was Presidente Light!"

"No, I'm a teacher. Are you a business major?"

"Nick, your bathing suit is see through! You're such a fag!"

"What's a bicep?"

"No! SPF means how much longer you can be out in the sun without getting burned. Like, if you normally get burned in 20 minutes, SPF 5 will keep you from getting burned for like, 100 minutes"

By the time my friend Ranier showed up the pool had turned a faded pinkish-brownish-color. Swimming was out for the day. "I'm not going in there" he said. He peeled off his outer bathing suit and again I felt alone. The highlight of the day was the massage he gave me. Unfortunately I had to reciprocate. It was in my best interest that I was unable to talk for the majority of the party. Instead, I worked Ranier's big black lumps to the best of my ability and tried to tune out the rest of the gawking crowd.

Judging by the quality of their hags, these homos were definitely C-list or below. My roommate dealt with his disappointment by drinking way too much sangria.

At one point I got too bored and sneezed some post-surgical blood into a Kleenex, purposefully leaving it beside my recliner in hopes that the event would surface on JuicyCampus.com

The party was to end at 4:00. Unfortunately, the South Beach Elite didn't arrive until 3:49. It turned out to be okay, since South Beach's Finest don't stay around one place for more than 30 minutes, and they most certainly DO NOT get their hair wet. The party was over by 5:00. I had the place cleaned and was napping by 6. Although the hosts thought the party a big ugly bust, the general review for our "Back to School, Butt-Buggger-Bash" was that the party was "FIERCE"

It wasn't until late Monday afternoon that I was able to obtain anymore pain killers, but the entire event has left me feeling raw and quite un-hip despite my current physical numbness.
On the bright side, the only queermo I made bleed was myself, and the only regret I have is that I didn't wash my sheets before taking my post-party nap.

Paul David models: Why no photo shoot is ever free

2008-08-23T14:43:00.009-04:00

It is very well known that I have had my share of bad experiences with people in "The Biz". Some say it is because I attract the wrong kind of attention. Maybe it's the dancing on tables at work, the strip-teases-for-tips, the faggy blond highlights or maybe even the disturbingly accurate impressions I do of Zac Effron getting plowed by Perez Hilton.

People take an interest. These people come in the form of washed up industry-members-turned-social-parasites that prey on the innocence of the young and supposedly talented (although the talented part doesn't matter). These people slink between gay bars and politely wait for you to finish the night's 11 o'clock number... You get your knee from behind your neck and your head back on top of the rest of your body when they approach you with the usual pickup lines such as "Are you a model?", "You know Emporio Armani is looking for a new face for his cologne" and "Oh my God we finally get to meet THE ________" (While you're thinking..."How does his tongue reach the bottom of the glass like that?!") They hand over their business cards with victorious conclusion lines like "We'll see what we can do", "Give my secretary a call" and "You aren't allergic to dust, are you?"

His business card is out of date. It says the office is on south beach when he says they have relocated into the design district. When I Google him, the search returns a 60-year-old's Myspace, a model-hunter site I've never heard of (twinkshots.com???) and about fifteen sites that do background checks. There is a faint chuckle from the gnomes inside my computer who know you are in for it once again. 'No! This is progress,' I think, 'at least I'm not paying for pictures like some of those other "models" who "work"'.

His assistant calls. His voice is high pitched and feminine. Says it is urgent and that I need to bring a head shot and resume to the office ASAP. It's much easier to send an email. They inform that the head shot will simply not do and that THE Paul David has offered to shoot me for a reduced rate. The inclusion of the capitalized THE before his name is impressive, so I agree. "Hell, what've I got to lose?" I think... "You're dignity!!!" The gnomes' screams fall upon deaf ears as the iPod is already engaged and you are out the door to the train.

The landscape gets dark by the closest train stop. Maybe a Taxi is a better idea. "Hey, how much will it cost to take me to the design district?"
"What's the address"
"5040 NW 2nd Street"
"I don't go there. Hey Charlie! How much you charge to get this kid to little Havanna?"
-Oh shit.

Paul David's studio is hard to find. It is a small, grey, windowless storage space between a bail bondsman's office and a sort-of farmer's market that sells plastic hair. His doorman asks me for a dollar and I oblige, wanting to remain in possession of my iPod. The gnomes inside the little MP3 player are much more mean spirited than those inside of the computer. They make up words like "FailBait" and "Uberdouche"

It is sunset and Paul David wears motorcycle glasses inside his windowless apartment. His assistant is off for the evening, but when his phone rings he answers it with a high, feminine voice. He makes you feel special by disregarding his client just for you. He says "We've gotta go, the twink from Score is here" and he hangs up. I would feel bad for the caller, but in my opinion they are lucky that their call even got answered because I never heard the phone ring.

I act as PA when we set up the studio. Two flats turn upwards and move in front of a couple of old fashioned flashbulbs: the kind that smoke when they light up.

Paul David is very classy. He smokes hand-rolled cigarettes that smell like my uncle TearDrop. In fact, the whole studio/office/bedroom seems to smell like my uncle TearDrop. Before I could get lost in reminiscence of my dear old uncle, THE Paul David threw an Armani suit at me to wear for my first "Look". My eyes began to water, either it was the dust from the jacket or the intensity of wearing such a once-expensive piece of clothing. I wore the jacket with pride, but the pants didn't fit. They were a size 34 and I was a mere 30. Looking even more stupider, I found that my left arm was not in the sleeve at all, but in a hole torn into the armpit some time ago.

My pants fell down and I began to cry. I had been exposed as a fake. Not a real model at all! I couldn't even handle tiny discomforts like dust or a masturbating photographer!!! The flashing of the bulbs disoriented me. THE Paul David said this was a good thing, that I have a natural quality not possessed by anyone else in the world: ever. We did several looks that day in front of the flats normally used to keep his gigantic dogs from peeing on his bed. We did "Back to school", "Back to school- shirtless", "Back to school with a cap" and finally (for variation) "Sitting next to a motorcycle outside". I was told not to touch the motorcycle, and I didn't, but someone from the farmer's market yelled at me anyways and I started crying again.

When it was time to go, he threw my clothes at me and told me that he would be sending these pictures to Bruce Webber, Ferenc Esceki and Oscar Meyer! I was just that good! "The next big thing!" He gave me a CD of the pictures that day that made me feel otherwise.

Always the gentleman, Paul David offered to give me a ride home. He said we were friends now, "you don't have to call me THE Paul David unless we're around company". He tipped the doorman (or was it landlord?) and we sped off to I95. The a/c was broke but we didn't open the windows because it was going to rain and they don't close unless the car is stopped. The smell reminded me of uncle TearDrop again. The gnomes inside Paul David's car were cheering until we broke down about a mile from my home.

Paul David asked if I should rehearse my 11 O'clock number while we waited for AAA, but I insisted that I should be running, as he never called AAA and I had a previous engagement to pose nude for some on-line art class starting at 10:00.

Bionic Egg Web Design

2008-08-02T18:16:00.002-04:00

Love, YouTube

2008-07-31T15:40:00.000-04:00

2008-07-29T11:53:00.000-04:00

why animal activists are often gaybashers

2008-07-29T00:14:00.000-04:00

Long weekend

2008-07-28T13:04:00.000-04:00

The best of Joel's laptop

2008-07-23T15:10:00.010-04:00

Poor David's Pantry

2008-07-23T12:36:00.000-04:00

Summertime, and the livin's itchy

2008-07-22T14:26:00.000-04:00

Join the team

2008-07-20T02:32:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Score Bar, where if you stare at the waiters long enough, they take off their shirts!

2008-07-18T13:02:00.001-04:00

David Monoahan's Golden Banana Of Ireland is not paying the bills

2008-07-18T13:00:00.000-04:00

history

2008-07-16T13:16:00.000-04:00

Aug 9.... its cumming

2008-07-15T13:00:00.000-04:00

I have a problem with the Brown stuff

2008-07-13T12:39:00.000-04:00

David Monahan's Golden Banana of Ireland

2008-07-12T17:01:00.001-04:00

forgot to post this last summer....

2008-04-25T14:54:00.001-04:00

Gotta love film racing. Is this cheating?

Then... and Now

2008-04-19T03:25:00.003-04:00

X2

2008-04-11T15:40:00.008-04:00

2007-12-10T20:29:00.000-05:00

Pic of the day:

Where in the @#$% is Carmen Sandiego?

2007-11-28T11:03:00.000-05:00

The number one threat to kids today:

Carmen Sandiego

Why? Carmen Sandiego is an integral and hyper-subversive product of the Christian Science's Brainwashing Constituent.

Carmen Sandiego is an interactive, detective-style computer game in which children essentially stalk a femme-fatal thief. This "edutaining" program teaches subjects from geography and history to violent racism and homophobia. This program needs some purifigaytion with newer, more politically strident and liberating hideouts for Carmen.

An example of one game-play as it exists today:

"Hey there, gum-shoe. This is what we know so far:

-Carmen was seen eating latkes
-She was wearing a Miramax producer's jacket
-Reports of a woman babbling in Hebrew and devouring Christian babies match our perp's description

You wanna fly to Israel? Let's go!
Oh no! A henchman! We are hot on her heels!"

How we can make this game truly strident and educational in our modern world:

"Hey there, gum-shoe. This is what we know so far:

-Carmen was in a VW bus headed north on I95 two days ago.
-Before word cut out, our informant in the bus told us that he was baked out of his mind and about to take a hit of purple microdots with our villain. We heard the band Primus playing on the stereo during the transmission.
- Residents of Nashville's suburbs report a woman wearing only a red hat and matching thong screaming about bats in an open cornfield sometime around noon.

You wanna go to the Bonnaroo Music Festival?
A henchman! He has overdosed, so is no use for information, but you're hot on her heels.

The newest reports:
-We recently discovered an affair Carmen was having with a man named Waldo. He was a bitch to track down, but we finally have him in custody.
-He says that during his last meeting with Carmen, his condom broke.
-Waldo was arrested and taken into custody while engaging in anonymous sex with several hundred similarly dressed men at the White Swallow Bathhouse.

You wanna go to the STD clinic?
She's not here!

You wanna go to Planned Parenthood?
In the dumpster we found a fetus wearing a detective hat and red-stripped shirt! It's still warm, we still may catch her yet!

Finally a break!
-The fetus had a large bite mark taken out of it. We've scanned the marks with the national dental database and found that they match either Andy Dick or Christopher Reeve.

You want to go to West Hollywood?
Neither Carmen nor Andy Dick are here. Don't be so jumpy, gum-shoe. I haven't even given you the clues yet. We are really close, don't screw this up!

-Andy Dick has political ties terrorist associations such as Al Queda, Payless BombSource and the Allan Cummings Fan Club.
-Waldo was found dead in his fire-island studio apartment this week. He had his testicles cut off. He died of asphyxiation due to a red and white stripped burqa tied around his neck.

You want to go spelunking in the Middle East? Fine, don't listen to my last clue, ya jumpy bitch!
...Holy hot dogs! You found Carmen Sandiego!

Okay gum-shoe, nice work. I hope you didn't take me calling you a jumpy bitch personally. You're still going to share the credit for this one with me, right? I mean, I did provide you with all of the clues while you essentially sat on your ass and clicked a few buttons... No? Well fine! Fuck you.
The latest news:
-Carmen has escaped custody, come to your home and raped you with a strap-on using oil-based lube! Now the pores in your ass are clogged and you'll get zits on your O-ring to add to the existing discomfort. How do you like them apples, gum-shoe?!"

See, guys? Isn't that just better? Not only was it more edutational; it was more exciting, contemporary and relevant. Instead of teaching the kids about geography and anti-semistism, they learn lessons that finally tie together themes of teamwork, current events, geography, and even that talk with mom about why Uncle Tom now wants to be called Miss Nancy. It is wrong to abandon a cherished icon of Americana simply because it is outdated.

Happy hunting!
-MaxV

Why Terrence Koh love ME... not You

2007-11-20T15:55:00.001-05:00

my deerest deer max

howl could you ever bore meeYOU have great nipples

i have been flying againSORRRY  as me had mee big performance in
athens last night with two go go boys

now i am happily in berlin where i am gettting ready to shoot and
direct my first FILM

its called GOD and i am GOD and it stars lots of hot german boys and
about 20 of them doggy me

and we are filming bunny scenes with rabbit masks running around the
german black forest

and we are SHOOTHING stars a scene with me on the most beautiful
white horse

you should come to berlin to be in GOD

i am in miami early december accordingly to my global travel co-
ordinates


i have to run now as my white smokes is here


how do you know i am not a fat ugly pimply old man

its powerful
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
t
ps.
to spell my name in cum must take lots of cum  canyou send me a
highRES version of it so i can use it in my upcoming BOOK
www.asianpunkboy.com


mee performance in athens last night

but imagine very hard all is set to a POUNDING HARD TECHNO soundtrack
played so hard till your ears are splitting and the two bright lights
so bright your eyes are SPLITTING

loveemost
t

if i were a real person i would say i am sorry
but bad is just as great as happy in mee
POPPED AS LIKE WHITE STARS IN MY NOSTRIUM
picture is knot me i would say
just a ghostly example
cold in berlin i am
miss athen gold sun
X
t

i thought you hated me CAUSE yo rolled yo eyes    it really hurt
but now i know its not

drawings i did APPROX  two weeks ago in new york over new nights
i had to cum about 6 times a night DIFFICULT

i wish i was real

video will send
if i am given it  EARS

x

shall we tell boring truths
4:53am in berlin
working on all bloody stuff around the world
but
soon soon
www.asianpunkboy.com is gonna be relaunced

casa de koh?
high
not sober
kinda horny
but so there almost beyond HORNED

shall i sleeepp
please send me secretly your WHAT INSOMNIACS DO AT 3:01AM video

i came when you made out with that girl twice i tink

Xt

http://www.andreasangelidakis.blogspot.com/

My Deerest Ladybug

This sundae i will be giving a lecture at the House of World Cultures in Berlin

I will talk about WORLD POLITICS

I do hope if you are around you can hear the power coming from all our hearts.

Your Son,

Terence Koh

Sunday, 16th Sept 2007

Theatersaal, Haus der Kulturen der Welt/ House of World Cultures

Eintritt mit Ticket der Ausstellung "New York - States of Mind", 5 Euro, ermäßigt 3 Euro/ Admission with ticket to exhibition "New York - States of Mind", 5 Euro, concessions 3 Euros.

6:30 pm

Terence Koh

The Sun

Lecture @ Lecture Hall Auditorium

its strange to meet a stranger
you give me juice   little trinkets of happiness because you have the
energy
its so important the the  the no way that you have to put your thing
on that for people to see   its like being naked but you have to be
fully fully naked you know
find the little hurrican in the sea
london i fly tommorrow  here in berlin i am tonight   paris i was
last night
and wish you were along as power
i hope you do not think i am just wanted your cum just like that
i we have a sadness that is beyond
i think it fate of eternal sadness   we both cry under two moons no
one realizes
i wore my black fox shawl today
i am falling
X

The earth is but a shadow in the wintry lake of my soul

deer friends!

garrick and i have aged unnaturally due to rampant drug abuse

but we are still just as horny!!!

love
terence & garrick

doo yoo

live in la

my gallerist is having an opening tonight with my friend dash snow

say hello to javier peres my gallerist

969 chung king road somewhere in the heat of chinatown

with simmers
t

deer cookie!

Vaginal davis quote of the day/pictures from BLAB

"...After i´ve been singing a while i get the audience worked up and i art direct a whorgy where one well endowed young German boy starts performing fellatio on one of the living pieces of sculpture and gets so excited that he ejaculates with a geyser like intensity all over juicy artist Dean Samashima, Diane Von Furstenberg and Mike Kelley, who left his own opening to attend this one, and i don´t think he appreciated getting sperm all over his clothing."

http://www.vaginaldavis.com/blog/

from dick cave in berlin

terror

http://www.peresprojects.com/exhibit_press_release.php?location_id=2&exhibit_id=142

deer deer
what doo yo
my camera brokey
and i writey a M V in sharpie on my fings and NOW it knot showing
like a moon destroyed by a wave
X
t

happy birthday
...
loves, t

MIAMI I AM DEC2-7  ARE YO
LIKE A RABBIT BY THE MOON
HOPING THERE IN WILDERNESS ASS WELL

max meet garrick
garrick meet max

if you ever get lost in new york or robbed or stolen

garrick's yo man

come visit dee white ship
make it dirty
drink with garrick    he loves the BOOZE

xTc

Why bother with a real boyfriend?

yes please i order fo rmyself

Xt


>
>
>
> http://www.realdoll.com/maledoll1.asp
>
> http://www.realdoll.com/flatbackmaletorso.html

AND TODAY:

Harry Potter

2007-11-14T14:48:00.000-05:00

ENG 495
Queer Studies in Literature: featuring titles such as "Dotty Gets Spanked" "A Cyborg Manifesto" "The Fantasy of Pansexuality" and "Bloodchild"

Among topics such as male impregnation by giant cockroach-creatures ("Bloodchild"), we covered an interesting new phenom: Harry Potter SLASH fiction. An interesting blend of erotic fetish literature and childhood stories, Harry Potter is once again the subject of a new kind of theme.

These stories are mainly written by young women with too much time on their hands. The plots generally focus of gay rape, gay love, male impregnation and of course macrophelia.

"Afterwards he lay silent, wondering if Potter was asleep yet. One thing he had forgotten which now came back to him full force: if spunk dried in the crevices it itched like fury. He was desperate to wash it off, but he didn't want to wake the boy.

Then he felt it; a strange almost-tingle deep inside him, as if someone with a wand had cast Lumos. If he hadn't been lying so still he probably wouldn't have noticed it, so he was grateful for that at least. He'd never believed the tales he'd read of women feeling the moment of conception, and was rather surprised it had happened to him. Perhaps it was the potion.

The room was quite black so he couldn't look, but he could hear Potter's quiet, deep breathing. At least the boy didn't snore, though that would have had the advantage of signalling when he was properly asleep. Snape slid out of bed and made for the bathroom.

When he returned Potter was still asleep, but as he slid under the covers Potter moved towards him and murmured, "Missed you," quite distinctly. Snape waited for a moment. He wondered if he'd find out the name of Potter's dream girl, but he said nothing more.

Snape lay awake, staring up into the darkness." (Site)

Harry Potter Slash Site

ANOTHER Harry Potter Slash site

The class's group project was to create a presentation based on this form of literature. As captain of my gay little ship, I decided to blend another unique form of Harry Potter fandom, Harry Potter's Puppet Pals:

This is what we came up with in our rather brief meeting:

The magic never ends!

2007-11-14T00:27:00.000-05:00

2007-11-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

Facebook applications

2007-11-08T11:31:00.000-05:00

Facebook is a social networking utility that connects YOU with the superficial douche bags around you.

In the last year or so, people have begun to become agitated by newly introduced applications sponsored by various spam-companies. The most popular application is the "stalker application" that allows one to know when friends comment each other, join/leave groups, hook up/break up, add photos, meet people, are in the shower, etc. Other applications include "graffiti wall", "Ninjas V Pirates", "Zombie club", "Entourage" and "Send a drink"

Although these new features are a contemporary product, they are still not modern and up to date with the throbbing pulse of our youth. New applications should be added. they should have catchy slogans and be allowed to access our information, put a box in our profile, email us weekly newsletters fabout Viagra discounts and then dump us when we leave the state.

Facebook applications that are just more useful:

"Track record"- a personalized forum open only to those who have been in a relationship with the applications user. This application can include various ratings (quality of body, personality, fellatio, car, etc), embarrassing threadable stories, roofie awards, and most importantly; the abortion count.

"Give superficial shit" would be sponsored by pretentious high end designer lines of various goods. People can pay full price for digital versions of clothes, accessories, phones, jewelry and grillz so that everyone who visits your page knows just how much better than them you are!

"Kryps V Bloods"- a virtual gangster society where people don't know that every person is white. You can design your own thug, commit e-drive by's, e-smack your digi-ho and mug other people of their "superficial shit"

"Dealers V Customers" is a hybrid of the "Zombie" and "Vs" applications in which you can "bite" people by selling them pot (1pt), pills (2pts) coke (3pts), crack (5pts) or even Substance D (7pts)

"FSA- Facebook-Stalkers-Anonymous" is a support application that cancels out every application on your account. When attempting to stalk manually, the application sends out an electronic signal through the user's mouse and shocks them.

"Hate crime count"- displays pictures of every Facebook member you have committed a hate crime against. Is very similar to the existing "Pedophile Count" and "Date-rape count"

"Give Meds"- is helpful for that friend who obviously needs an adderol, xanax, vicodin, roofie, whatever. This would help combat actual drug use by glorifying it on the Internet.

"Slutty Backstabbing Skank" is an application that allows people to receive a special alert when a designated friend has become single. This is a revolutionary tool since it is a common atrocity today that we have to navigate all the way to an object of affection's page only to find out that we cannot have sex with them!

"People you've never met" application would include a photo-journal of all those people you are "e-friends" with who have default pictures taken by themselves in the mirror since they don't have an actual friend (us Facebook people call them "Tangibles")

MV

Great T-shirt Idea

2007-11-02T14:03:00.000-04:00

Max's Dictionary

2007-11-02T13:12:00.000-04:00

Friday, Nov 2-
Bisexual- (n/adj)
(a) Female attention whore
(b) The stage guys go through before they come out of the closet (see Emo)

Sat, Nov 3-
Douche- (n)
(a) My roommate
(b) That guy who called me a fagot on Halloween (apparently he didn't like my John Wayne Bobbit outfit...)
(c) The friend of that guy who called me a fagot on Halloween that punched me from behind
(d) Andy Dick

Sun, Nov 4-
Pussy- (n)
(a) that thing nobody who reads my blog wants to hear about
(b) anyone who wouldn't have stood up to that guy who called me a fagot on Halloween
(c) anyone who needs seven friends around to start a fight
(c) I think it refers to a small, domesticated feline too...

Mon, Nov 5-
Compton- (n)
(a) A place in Los Angeles that every rapper claims to be from
(b) A place in Los Angeles that too many white people act like they come from
(c) A good place for Jewish lightening to hit your car

Tues, Nov 6-
Literature- (n) blow-hards blowing hard

Weds, Nov 7-
Superman that Ho- (v?); the black people still won't tell me what it means until it's not cool anymore. It is most likely either:
(a) cumming on a girl's back/ass (See: tramp stamp) and not wiping it off so that she wakes up stuck to a bed sheet
OR
(b) flying out of there after you give your girl (AKA Chicken Head) herpes

Thurs, Nov 8-
Turbin- (n); a hat you can hide a bomb in

Fri, Nov 9-
Ironic- (adj)
(a) Full of iron.
(b) Me getting punched in the face for no good reason (karma excluded)
(c) Pogo the clown (right)

How to be Hardcore

2007-10-29T15:28:00.000-04:00

It has come to what little attention I have that I may have been a touch rough with the Emo kids in a recent post.

The Emo epidemic is a growing phenomenon. It is hurting/weakening/perverting our youth. "EMO", it turns out actually stands for "Eating Mostly Orphans". This young author thinks that notion is Evil/Moronic/Offensive!

Satan's fad is taking its toll on south Florida youth! Children are overheating from a combination of summer heat and excessive black clothing. Allowances are sadly trashed on piercings, eye liner and AFI albums. Perfectly good wrists are scarred. Even more perfectly good razors are getting wasted. These victimized kids eventually lash out, become closet-homosexuals and often commit hate crimes like yelling "Fag!" at passing pedestrians from their 9 year old Volvos.

Mostly importantly however, is how soft these kids are becoming. Every hardcore motherfucker knows that if you can't find a good fight and need to cut yourself to unleash you inner-pain, you go down the street, not across the tracks, "Make it count, fagot!"

What these EMO boys and girls need to do is toughen the fuck up and upgrade to the "Hardcore" clique. You don't have to be attractive. You don't have to be smart. All you need is to do a lot of drugs and be able to talk about a fight you almost just got into.

(Consider this community service for my presidential platform when I run in '08)

MAX VICIOUS pumps YOU up!

Everybody meet my assistant Mike.

Say "hi", Mike.

Mike: "WAHHH!!!!HELLOOOO THERE!!!!"

Good to have you on the show. This brings me to

Lesson 1: Scream alot. Whether you are happy, sad, excited, bummed, angry, hurt, or just having your period. The more you scream, the more cred you are ultimately to receive.

Lesson 2: Don't actually scream. I mean, we call it "screaming" but its actually not very loud without a microphone. What you do is make a rumble from a low place in your throat like you would when sucking a cock. Screamo kids love that sound.

Lesson 3: Buy a lot of drugs. Note that Max Vicious does not advocate any drug use, but does recommend that you have some on hand in order for these kids to like you. One healthy approach is to take a sewing needle and poke it repeatedly into the soft side of the elbow to create fabulous faux-track marks

Lesson 4: Buy an instrument, but whatever you do; DO NOT learn how to play it. Structure and form are the antithesis of what hardcore/metal/screamo (call it what you will) stands for. You might as well get a synthesizer, choreographer, agent, or tattoo of a Jack's Mannequin album cover!

Lesson 5: Get violent, people! This lesson applies to everyone on earth. Nobody on this planet seems to get that this society feeds on violence. If there was just a little more violence in the home daily (I'm talking only two teaspoons), our nation would save hundreds of billions of dollars in filling our national violence quota. Remember that chicks dig scars, open wounds, blood, missing teeth and the occasional "Sylvester Stalone sweet-talk".

Lesson 6: Nothing says "Punk ass hardcore motherfucker" like a facebook group. Start one up! Give it a hardcore name like "I shit on my ex-girlfriend's grave", "Twenty stitches later...", or "The casual sex facebook group"; none of that sissy "Pirates Vs. Ninjas" crap.

Lesson 7: Shave your head. The Neo-Nazi look is really vogue right now.

Lesson 8: Smoke crack before your shows.

Lesson 9: No smiling in pictures.

Lesson 10: You can still wear the eye-liner... but this time draw a cock-and-balls on your face with the pencil so people think you passed out and that you actually have friends who drew it.

Who knows; if all goes to plan you may end up with a friend or two, minimal brain damage... and even a GIRLFRIEND! She won't like your music, but will totally respect that you play...

Right, Mike?
Mike- "THAT'S ROIT!!! Her love gives me butterflies... BUTTERFLIES!!!"

Max's Dictionary

2007-10-26T12:47:00.000-04:00

It is time. The world in which we live needs more than dicktionary.com can offer.

MAX'S PETTING ZOO
is proud to present your weekly
WORDS OF THE DAY!

Now remember, if you hear the word on it's specified day; SCREAM REAL LOUD!
Also remember, I am not making these up. This is entirely objective social observation!

Friday, Oct 26
Love:N-
(a) Anything that doesn't involve sex in Hollywood
(b) A myth
(c) A means of controlling/using/abusing/hurting people (see Organized Religion)
(c) Pat (aww...)

Sat, Oct 27
Gay:Adj-
(a) Anything I don't like. This word is no longer associated with homosexuality. The new term for a homosexual person is "Badass"
(b) Happy, generally in a musical theatre context. Actually; anything in a musical theatre context

Sun, Oct 28
Fag:N-
(a) Anyone I don't like, also not exclusively homosexual.
(b) A republican senator.
(c) This guy-

Mon, Oct 29
Monday:N-
A person of African Descent; a jungle bunny; a guy with a bigger dick than me; a burberry daddy

Tues, Oct 30
Jihad:N-
Agression cause by lousy strip clubs, racial intollerance, unibrows, excessive homophobia, no South Park, too-tight turbans, suicidal family members, lack of Hello Kitty endorsements, and an economic structure in which even the aristocracy resides in caves

Weds, Oct 31
Halloween:N-
(a) A song by Dave Matthews Band
(b) A holiday meant to celebrate the dead
(c) A holiday where girlyboys dress up as girls, slutty girls dress as sluts, attention whores try to be funny with retarded costumes nobody gets, perverts drug candy, and a wonderful time is had by all!

Thurs, Nov 1
Andy:n-
A dick.

And I complain about homework-

2007-10-25T19:30:00.000-04:00


The Cost of Being LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bi, and/or Trans) in Today’s World.

Algeria – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Angola – Labor Camps
Antigua and Barbuda – 15 Years in Prison
Bahrain – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Bangladesh – 10 Years to Life in Prison
Barbados – Life in Prison
Belize – 10 Years in Prison
Benin – 3 Years in Prison
Bhutan – 1 Month to 1 Year in Prison
Botswana – A Fine to 7 Years in Prison
Brunei – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Cameroon – A Fine to 5 Years in Prison
Cook Islands – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Djibouti – 10 to 12 Years in Prison
Dominica – 10 Years in Prison
Egypt – 5 Years in Prison
Eritrea – 3 to 10 Years in Prison
Ethiopia – 10 Days to 3 Years in Prison
Gambia – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Ghana – Not Known
Grenada – 10 Years in Prison
Guinea – 6 Months to 3 Years in Prison
Guinea Bissau – Labor Camps
India – A Fine to Life in Prison
Iran – Death
Jamaica – 10 Years Hard (Rock hard!) Labor
Kenya – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Kiribati – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Kuwait – A Fine to 7 Years in Prison
Lebanon – A Fine to 1 Year in Prison
Lesotho – Not Known
Liberia – A Fine
Libya – A Fine to 5 Years in Prison
Malawi – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Malaysia – A Fine to 20 Years in Prison
Mauritania – Death
Mauritius – A Fine to 5 Years in Prison
Morocco – 6 Months to 3 Years in Prison
Mozambique – Labor Camps
Myanmar/Burma – 10 Years to Life in Prison
Namibia – Not Known
Nauru – 14 Years Hard Labor
Nepal – A Fine to 1 Year in Prison
Nicaragua – 1 to 3 Years in Prison
Nigeria – 5 Years in Prison to Death
Niue – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Oman – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Pakistan – 2 Years to Life in Prison
Palau – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Palestine – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Papua New Guinea – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Qatar – A Fine to 5 Years in Prison
Saint Kitts and Nevis – 10 Years in Prison
Saint Lucia – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Saint Vincent and Grenadines – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Samoa – A Fine to 7 Years in Prison
Sao Tome and Principe – Labor Camps
Saudi Arabia – Death
Senegal – 1 Month to 5 Years in Prison
Seychelles – A Fine to 2 Years in Prison
Sierra Leone – Life in Prison
Singapore – 2 Years in Prison
Solomon Islands – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Somalia – 3 Months in Prison to Death
Sri Lanka – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Sudan – 5 Years in Prison to Death
Swaziland – A Fine
Syria – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Tanzania – A Fine to 25 Years in Prison
Togo – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Tokelau – A Fine to 10 Years in Prison
Trinidad and Tobago – 25 Years in Prison
Tunisia – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Turkmenistan – A Fine to 2 Years in Prison
Tuvalu – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Uganda – A Fine to Life in Prison
United Arab Emirates – Death
Uzbekistan – A Fine to 3 Years in Prison
Yemen – Flogging to Death
Zambia – A Fine to 14 Years in Prison
Zimbabwe – A Fine to 1 Year in Prison

The above list was compiled from data available at

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LGBT_rights_by_country

Too lazy for a "Dear Max" entry

2007-10-23T12:40:00.001-04:00

I offer soft, warm and moist appologies for not posting a blog in almost a week. Is there anything, and I mean ANYTHING that I can do to make it up to you?

This weekend was an action-packed (and I mean PACKED) adventure! More on that when the pictures come back.

In the meantime, since it's been so long, I offer TWO top ten lists for the price of one! Because really, you must have been a mess without me.

Inspired by my roommate who never leaves the room:

10 Signs You Are about to get Dumped

10) She doesn't have your number

9) She sleeps in your brother's room/sister's room/roommate's bed/dog's crate

8) She's pressing charges for that one magical night you shared

7) Her phone "has been disconnected" whenever you call from your phone

6) She has all ready moved on, on Facebook/Her Facebook page has comments like "You dump that faggot/douche/twat yet??"

5) She wants her eye makeup back

4) She takes a cab home after dates

3) All you do is eat out

2) She stops shaving

1) She stops douching.

Ten Signs that You Have No Friends

11) (BONUS!) You are my roommate

10) Your phone has no memory of missed calls... ever.

9) Your phone kills itself

8) Your dog cuts himself

7) Your mom forgets your name

6) Only one person shows up to your kegger- and steals the keg

5) You still play Pokemon

4) You hang out with Andy Dick

3) The gays don't want to make you over

2) Your sister pretends not to speak English

1) You cry when your favorite blogging stranger is MIA for four days.

If you find yourself suffering any of these symptoms; it's okay!

Remember, there is no "I" in "EMO*"

What is funny, my roomate is not even emo*. He's simply a regular everyday douche from Brooklyn.

**Emo: acronym for Extreme-MO

2007-10-23T11:52:00.000-04:00

The Award Ceremony

2007-10-16T15:37:00.000-04:00

T-Room Larry Becomes Iowa Hall Of Flamer Famer

Sen. Larry Craig was named Saturday night to the Idaho Hall of Fame, despite his well-publicized arrest and GUILTY plea in an airport sex sting.

I think it is politically forward thinking and ethically enlightened to place a man who pleads guilty to trolling for sex in a public bathroom to a place of Honor among Iowa’s sons and daughters.

Taking my cue from the wise Iowans, Max Vicious presents:

Vicious recommendations for the Country’s Highest Honors

Memorabilia Collector of the Year goes to O. J. Simpson
Mother of the Year goes to (a tie!) Brittney Spears and Jamie Lynne Spears
Father of the Year goes to Chris Benoit (too soon?)
Husband of the Year goes to Chris Benoit
Parent – Child Communication Award goes to Alec Baldwin
Wife of the Year goes to Heather Mills (and some people thought she didn’t have a leg to stand on)
Couple of the Year goes to Heath Brokeback Ledger and Michelle Jack Nasty Williams
D.A.R.E. Prom King goes to Peter Doherty
D.A.R.E. Prom Queen goes to (a tie!) Amy Winehouse and Andy Dick
Teacher of the 21^st Century goes to Mary Kay Laterno
MILF of the 21^st Century goes to Angelina Jolie
M anyone under 13 can F goes to Mary Kay Laterno
Best Car Pool Dad goes to (a tie!) Kiefer Sutherland & David Hasselhoff
Best Baby Sitter goes to (a tie!) Michael Jackson, Marilyn Manson, Brittney Spears
Dive Team Captain goes to Johnny Fairplay
The Mother Teresa Award for Inconspicuous Good Deeds goes to Angelina Jolie
The Son of the Year Award goes to Ashton Kutcher (He thanks Demi for the nomination)
Marriage & Family Association Person of the Year goes to Pam Anderson
“Put on a Happy Face” Award goes to Avril Lavigne
The Loyal Friend Award goes to Barbara Walters
Hasselback Free Speech Award goes to Rosie O’Donnell
American Speech Coach Association Award goes to Rosie Perez
National Personal Hygiene Award goes to Benicio Del Toro
Knights of the White Magnolia Award goes to Barack Oboma
Jenny Craig Person of the Year goes to Beth Ditto
“Wind Beneath My Wings” Award goes to Bill Clinton
“Not a Lesbian’ Award goes to (a tie!) Hillary Clinton and Martha Stewart
“Not the Father” of a Lesbian Award goes to (a tie!) Dick Cheney and Bruce Willis
“Not a Homo” Award goes to Howard K. Stern.
“Just Acting Like A Homo” Award goes to (a “three way” tie!) Monsignor Tommaso Stenico*, Florida House member Bob Allen, Louisiana Republican Joey DiFatta, and Republican Senetor Larry Craig!
“Not a Homo” Anymore Award goes to Ted Haggard and Matthew “Dirty” Sanchez
Italian American Image Award goes to James Gandolfini
Catholic League of Decency Man of the Year goes to Monsignor Tommaso Stenico
Red Neck Image Award goes to Fred Thompson (previously won by George W. Bush)
Musician of the Year goes to Jared Leto
Comedian of the Year goes to Jay Leno
Heterosexual Rock Star Stud Award goes to John Mayer
Heterosexual R&B Star Stud Award goes to Usher
Heterosexual Rapper Star Stud Award goes to Nelly
Heterosexual Movie Star Award goes to (a “three way” tie!) John Travolta , Zac Efron, and Tom Cruz
Independent Woman Award goes to Katie Holmes
Nobel Peace Prize goes to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Best Female Vocalist goes to Marlee Matlin
Overeaters’ Anonymous Person of the Year goes to Mary-Kate Olsen
“Light Under A Bushel” Award goes to Michael Moore
Miss South Carolina goes to Lauren Caitlin
Miss Milan Goes to this chick:
Miss Puerto Rico goes to Ricky Martin
Teen Role Model Award Goes to Lindsay Lohan
Human Decency and Respect Award goes to (a tie!) Andy Dick and Dick Cheney because it’s really, all about the dick.

*http://www.abcnews.go.com/International/story?id=3728611

Why we SHOULD hit Faggots with our cars...

2007-10-12T12:22:00.001-04:00

THOROUGH Research has been completed, and the results are in:

AMERICA is in the middle of a crisis.
And no, it's not a fashion crisis-

Prophetic leaders in our nation have worked like monks to determine what the the next scapegoat will be. The suspects: Terrorists, Blacks, Escherichia coli, The Homeless, The Gays, The Retarded or of course The Prairie Dogs.
And this years sensationalist scapegoat of the year is.... (drum roll)
The gays!... AGAIN!...Not fabulous, guys!

Here's what the experts said:

"Pat Robertson

Gays were behind Hitler

"many of those people involved in Adolf Hitler were Satanists, many of them were homosexuals, the two things seem to go together, it is a pathology it is a sickness." - Pat Robertson on TV (I've seen the actual footage) - http://www.pfaw.org/issues/right/rtvw.antigay.shtml"

"Gays are diseased, depressed, and miserable

“You know, one of the great misnomers in our society is the term `gay.’ That somebody who is involved in something that is leading to suicide, where the V.D. rate is 11 times that of others, which are almost driven and ashamed and fearful and confused and psychotic and all the others that we read about plaguing this part of our society. The term gay is the most serious misuse of the English language. They’re not gay, they’re very, very depressed and miserable.” - 700 Club, 5-6-82 (source: People for the American Way Foundation)"

"Gays are after children

“It’s one thing to say, `We have rights to jobs...we have rights to be left alone in out little corner of the world to do our thing.’ It’s an entirely different thing to say, well, `We’re not only going to go into the schools and we’re going to take your children and your grandchildren
and turn them into homosexuals.’ Now that’s wrong.” - 700 Club, 9-17-92 (source: People for the American Way Foundation)"

"Gays want to disprupt churches, spread AIDS and spit at ministers

"[Homosexuals]want to come into churches and disrupt church services and throw blood all around and try to give people AIDS and spit in the face of ministers." Pat Robertson, 700 Club, 1/18/95 - People for the American Way Web site, http://www.pfaw.org/issues/right/rtvw.antigay.shtml"

"Jerry Falwell

God hates homosexuality

"god hates homosexuality" - Jerry Falwell on TV"

"The Family Research Council

Gays will recognize pedophiles as prophets

"...one of the primary goals of the homosexual rights movement is to abolish all age of consent laws and to eventually recognize pedophiles as the 'prophets' of a new sexual order." - "Homosexual Activists Work to Normalize Sex With Boys," FRC publication, July 1999, http://www.frc.org/misc/bl057.pdf

Columbine killers might be gay/bisexual

"What Are The Media Hiding?....the media have been slow to give a full profile of the killers -avoiding any mention of their alleged bisexuality as reported by several students....Matt Drudge describes them in his report as 'gay, jock-hating, confederate flag-wearing, goth rock & Marilyn Manson loving, white supremacist, fingernail polish wearing, Hitler birthday celebrating outcasts'....One student shortly after the attack said they were militant 'gays' who were retaliating against jocks. Another student said on NBC's Today Show that the trench coat kids bragged about being bisexual... No American news outlet has reported that bi-sexuality could have played a part in the tragedy." - FRC's "CultureFacts", April 21, 1999, http://www.frc.org/culture/cu99d3.html

Matt Shepard, and gays generally, will not inherit the kingdom of God

"homosexuals are included in a list of sinners, who, if unrepentant, will not inherit the kingdom of God." - Family Research Council press release about Matt Shepard's funeral, on the day of the funeral, October 16, 1998, http://www.frc.org/press/101698.html. The release implied that a gay person who had not yet become, or tried to become, an "ex-gay" was "unrepentant."

"Lesbianism akin to eating off the floor

"You don’t have to eat the stale crumbs off the dirty floor, which is basically what lesbianism is."- AFTAH Web site interview with FRC's Yvette Cantu, http://www.americansfortruth.org/ycc_interview.htm "

(What the fuck does that one even mean?!")

"Gays don't like children

"To me, thinking that a gay [male] couple would even want to adopt a child is bizarre [because] I can’t imagine them wanting that kind of responsibility. The homosexuals I knew who had been married before had already dumped their kids on their ex-wives, and were perfectly happy to see them two weeks out of the year! If they had children, what would happen when they were too busy having their sex parties?" - AFTAH Web site interview with FRC's Yvette Cantu, http://www.americansfortruth.org/ycc_interview.htm "

Matt Shepard compared to a drunk

" 'They create a climate and environment of intolerance and give license to those who seek to vent their rage or frustration on an entire community,' Human Rights Campaign executive director Elizabeth Birch said Wednesday, addressing a Washington rally attended by the likes of actress Ellen DeGeneres and Alan Simpson, a Republican former senator from Wyoming. Ms. Farish vehemently rejects such allegations. 'Don't blame AA because a drunk was beat up,' she said." - Heather Farish of the Family Research Council, quoted in the Dallas Morning News article, "Why now? Other gays have been victims of brutal attacks, but the slaying of a Wyoming student has caused a national outcry," by Brooks Egerton, October 17, 1998."

Other Faggish FACTS:

* Gays have sex with animals
* Tattoo AIDS patients, castrate gays
* AIDS is a Godsend
* Gays eat feces
* Gays engage in torture and pedophilia
* Put AIDS patients in detention centers
* Outlaw homosexuality, register gays
* Gays prey on the young
* Homosexuality is caused by older predators
* Gays are pedophiles
* Gays molest children
* Gays consume blood
* Gays are promiscuous
* Gays have abnormal sex
* Treating AIDS patients is risky
* Gays are medical horror story
* Gays are sexually troubled
* Gays are unhealthy, violent, and bad parents
* Gays beat their spouses * Gay parents molest their children * Gays don't believe in commitment * Thomas Jefferson said to castrate gays * Gays attack children ... * Gays chose to get AIDS
* Gays aren’t safe or masculine
* Being gay is akin to pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia
...* Acceptance of homosexuality leads to "death and despair"
* Satan uses homosexuals
* Homosexuality is a "deathstyle"
* Lesbian love is "a lie"
* Lesbians are "broken people" with "a lack of self-worth"
* Gays out to destroy marriage
* Gay rights will bring wrath of God
* Gays need a good "whack"
* Abuse is main cause of homosexuality
* Gay parents are "child abuse"
* Gay cabal controls everything
* Being gay is like drug addiction
* Gays haven't found Jesus
* Gays join devil in attacking family

SOURCE:

http://www.hatecrime.org/subpages/hatespeech/robertson.html

The Max Vicious solution:a good old fashioned Hallocaust!

Max's TOP TEN VICIOUS REASONS TO ATTEMPT AN EXTERMINATION OF THE GAYS...AGAIN:

10)"Broadway cares, EQUITY fights AIDs" Is actually a cover-up conspiracy set forth by the gay mafia that actually supplies terrorists with funds (As long as the terrorists bomb buildings that are either architecturally insignificant or just not aesthetically pleasing)

9) All gay people smoke crack

8)Gays possess what is known as the "Zombie" or "Vampire" affect: their gayness can spread onto a heterosexual during a molestation (EX: any Theatre Dept.)

7) They also spread West Nile Virus

6) The E! Channel

5) Gays writing is self-indulgent and exclusively about the author's self or kind

4) West Hollywood

3) Andy Dick

2) Britney Spears

1)Gays don't think it's wrong to be gay, which implies moral perversion on issues from abortion to gay-zombie-control

Lynching makes for a decent cardio workout as well- Just make sure not too get bit by those queers... or else you're next!

Just kidding: someone's gunna be out to getcha even if you're not gay... they'll think of something :-)

Love only,

-Max Zombie

Hate Crime of the Week!

2007-10-11T10:51:00.000-04:00

In local Miami News:

"Hit-And-Run Victim Targeted For Being Gay

31-Year-Old Remains In ICU Three Weeks Later"

Link to Hate Crime of the Week:

HATE CRIME, LOCAL 10

Driver's TOP TEN HATE CRIME QUOTES of the week:

10) "Let's see if Tinkerbell can fly"

9) "You see that fine piece of ass? I would totally hit that."

8) "Let's hit someone with the car and then go to the gym.
Anyone seen my undersized t-shirt and D&G shades?"

7) "A fag ...on South Beach?! Get him!"

6) "Oops I did it again!"

5) "Is he still singing? No? Oh shit, this is serious!"

4) "I swear I thought he was Jewish..."

3) "Why did the Pansie cross the road...?"

2) It was an accident- I was blinded by all the glitter"

1)"I am a very unhappy and conflicted person but I have such a socially inspired psychiatric construct against any inward investigation of my aberrational notions that I am unable to deal with my problems... Hey look, a queer!"

...love only?

-MaxVicious

Freedom- Love it or strap in!

2007-10-09T16:11:00.000-04:00

Freedom in Sexuality- An Uncensored Essay from an Uppity Fag

“It's so wonderful being a gay person. I said that before. I'm going to say it again. I love being gay. And I love gay people. I think we're better than other people. I really do. I think we're smarter and more talented and more aware and I do, I do, I totally do. And I think we're more tuned in to what's happening, tuned into the moment, tuned into our emotions, and other people's emotions, and we're better friends. I really do think all of these things. And I try not to forget them” –Larry Kramer

Being a homosexual male is advantageous in our society today. America as a whole is no longer afraid of the homosexual as much as they are simply bored of the critical issues CAUSED by the community’s own irresponsibility and lack of cohesion. They can’t do anything about it so they stop caring. In the entertainment industry, for example; being gay can either be the biggest advantage or disadvantage a person may have. It is absolutely dependant on the intelligence and self-respect of said homo.

Being gay comes with a plethora of stereotypes; obviously these stereotypes are mostly negative. Society has a less than tolerant reaction to these stereotypes and I cannot always blame them. It is primarily the lifestyle, not the gender preference that most people are against (except for those anti-gay-marriage freaks). It is this essential subject that really bothers me. A person of loose sexual boundaries, flippant attitude and spoiled-little-girl demeanor deserves a return of the exact same energy that they have polluted our world with regardless of their sexuality. During this past summer I lived in West Hollywood for three months. During that time I was:

-sexually harassed by a major talent agent (“I would probably sign you if we were dating”)

-molested by two professional photographers (“Let’s do nudes”/”Can I see it?”),

-propositioned by producers, costume designers, actors, bar managers, senators (kidding), bartenders, writers, guys masturbating in their Volvos (NOT kidding), etc.

-facebook “poked” by over forty guys whose pickup message was simply either “you’re cute” or, “nice pics”

-groped in some form buy a middle aged businessman EVERY NIGHT that I worked the Hollywood Improv (logically located in West Hollywood)

I am not trying to be a self-hating-homo as much as a younger, wittier, more sardonic and less crazy Larry Kramer (whose work I really recommend adding to our reading list). For those of you who are not familiar, Larry Kramer is an ex-gay-manslut turned AIDs-awareness-activist. In his famous speech “The Tragedy of Today’s Gays” Kramer rips the collective gay ass wide open. In this eye opening speech, he admits his own contribution to the AIDs crisis; “I know I murdered some of them. I just know. You know how you sometimes know things? I know. Several hundred over a bunch of years, I have to have murdered some of them, planting in him the original seed.” (Kramer)

Kramer has grown from circuit-clubber, to raving lunatic, to highly respected raving lunatic. “I know many people look to me for answers. Perhaps that is why many of you are here. You want answers? We're living in pigshit and it’s up to each one of us to figure out how to get out of it. You must know that by now. Crystal meth is not an answer. You must know that by now…You want to kill yourself. Go kill yourself. I'm sorry. It takes hard work to behave like an adult. It takes discipline. You want it to be simple. It isn't simple. Yes it is. Grow up. Behave responsibly. Fight for your rights. Take care of yourself and each other…No one likes to be told to grow up. It's insulting. But these are always the answers…There will never be any other answers…Be proud of yourself. Be proud you are gay. I don't know why so many find all this so complicated. But then I am 69 years old and have less patience for the many problems I had myself when young. It is one of the privileges of getting old…It is 25 years since 100,000 of us marched on Washington” (Kramer). I guess on this particular point, Kramer says it all; “You cannot continue to allow yourselves and each other to act and live like this!” (Kramer)

Since there is such a strong stigma associated with being gay, some people would be surprised to learn that it is only the sexual attraction that is dictated by birth. Lisping is a choice; as is reckless sex, effeminate behavior, flimsy morals and other socially aberrational qualities. When a person learns that I am gay, they are normally surprised and often compliment me in some form or another. The fact that I am gay AND act in a socially ‘normal’ manner seems to make me a much more valuable person in some people’s eyes. It’s the new affirmative action! Or is it reparations?

Speaking of affirmative action; violent crime associated with either race or deviant sexuality (pedophilia excluded) is almost nonexistent in America. Social isolation is obviously still present, but this ostracizing is almost the equivalent of having a lisp (the speech impediment kind, not the affected kind); you get a few jokes every so often and a couple assholes don’t want to associate with you. So what? The point is that nobody has to “pass” as anything that they are not anymore.

Being gay no longer disqualifies the artistic merit of the individual (unless they are an actor…kidding). In fact, the mystical and elusive “gay aesthetic” (EX. Plastic Flamingos?) gives creative gay males the upper hand. Hairdressers, interior designers, writers, musicians and photographers (you go, Fosso!) all have a leg up by just having the label “gay”. In some circles, GAY is equivalent to BFA (well, not quite). Being gay automatically makes the individual an outsider to the ‘normal” community. Being a fish out of water is what makes an artist original (since being original is what makes an artist).

Although a very disconnected community when it really counts, the gay male demographic is a very beneficial and easy (no pun intended) niche to fill. My first week in LA was filled with expensive dinners, parties in the Hollywood Hills and free drinks; all thanks to the illustrious Velvet Mafia. Granted I was given the star-treatment entirely based on my physical appearance and party-persona; it would have been nearly impossible to meet such influential friends and have these experiences if I were a straight or closeted man.

My blog is gay themed (if not centered) because of two important reasons:

1) My writing will gain acclaim faster in the land where the twink is king.

2) I have a lot of problems with the gay community and like to preach.

3) “It's so wonderful being a gay person. I said that before. I'm going to say it again. I love being gay. And I love gay people. I think we're better than other people. I really do. I think we're smarter and more talented…” blah, blah, blah…

It is every queer’s duty to accept, embrace and love their identity while maintaining a sense of self respect and responsibility as to further the culture.

Max Vicious, my blog name, has made a career out of walking the line between stroking gay male ego and giving said population a much needed kick in the ass (actually I will grant that particular favor to anyone who asks). Online there are no rules. It is the perfect example of the way our world has changed recently. The internet has brought upon such unlimited connectivity to the world around us that what was once shocking or off-limits is now entertaining, enlightening, boring or annoying.

Enlightenment is the goal. Entertainment is the means. Annoying or offensive may be a vicious side affect, but boring is what kills your ratings in America today. Let’s apply these rules to politics:

Turned him purple

2007-10-09T00:50:00.000-04:00

See?
Take THAT, Assinjihad!

The Persian Cat in The Hat

2007-10-07T15:30:00.002-04:00

Ahmadinejad Might Be On To Something

I know that the President of Iran’s visit to Columbia was several weeks ago, but his comments and the reaction to his comments have stayed with me. I would have discussed about this sooner, but I was exercising my freedom to have a lot of sex. - Because, if Max Vicious isn’t sodomizing, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad wins.

To add onto Columbia’s moronic choice of inviting president Mahmoud AssMadeInJihad (or whatever), Columbia’s President Bollinger reprimanded the new prince of darkness by way of introduction. I am sure AssInTheHat was terrified by this stern talking to from a teacher. A reprimand from a University Administrator is almost like a public hanging, without the sno-cones, cotton candy and death rattles.

During the Q&A portion Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said,

"In Iran, we don't have homosexuals like in your country. We don't have that in our country. In Iran, we do not have this phenomenon. I don't know who has told you that we have it."

It is now time to admit that I am the one who told everyone that there were homosexuals in Iran.

It was an honest mistake!

I was looking at that whole ‘Persian history’ thing and the record of homosexuality as part of the Persian culture as fact.

I still don’t believe that Rumi wasn’t [censored for sake of author’s safety]… Ahmadinejad has taught me that recorded history, if inconvenient, should be denied in favor of a new truth that matches your political and financial goals – wait a minute, it might have been George W. Bush that taught me that. I get the two mixed up on a few rare occasions.

As I look at Iran, the combination of Ahmadinejad’s obsessions with all things gay and the Sharia law (which he uses to collect and kill the fags) makes me wonder if I have to agree with Ahmadinejad’s statement. I also wonder if this even matters at all anymore It seems that President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has stoned, hung, lashed, and gender reassigned “this phenomenon” right out of existence in modern Iran.

Vicious Evidence That There Are No Homosexuals Left in Iran

Unruly facial hair. There is clearly no one to tweeze, trim, and hedge clip the facial hair of our Diminutive Dictator.
Man on Man kissing. Nothing screams “heterosexual” like a little tonsil tennis with an adolescent boy. Or is that nothing screams “Republican Senator” like… I always get my “ruling parties” confused.
No choirs. There are clearly no choir directors. Have you heard the tunes at the mosque lately? …Makes me long for the Methodists.
The Dictator’s schedule is a mess. No lesbians to keep the little guy on task.
No Iranian swim team in the Olympics. No one to swim, no one to coach, no one to design the swimsuit.
No Female Iranian Olympic team. They whine, “We trip on our burkas. We can’t see the ball.” I say, “No dykes left.”
No prom. No teachers left to think it’s fun. No gay boys left to make the crepe paper flowers. No gay girls to build the stage.
No Drama Club. Considered the “Gay Head Start,” Ahmadinejad banned it right after he didn’t get cast as Tom Thumb in Tehran High’s production of Barnum!
No nice restaurants. No one to cook, to wait tables, or customers who tip well.
No audience left for The Andy Dick Ramadan Holiday Spectacular.
No audience left for E! News.
No audience left for the High School Musical franchise.
No KY factory.
No Burberry factory.
No Condom factory.
No Starbucks.
No Mac Store.
Bushes in the public parks are dropping- they aren’t getting their usual protein.
No fast food joints. No one to manage the places.
No Universities. No one to manage the places.
No gyms. No one to manage the places.

I know the religious right in this country must be jealous. In Iran they can hang us, even if we’re all ready hung. They can lash us, even if we’re not into whips. They can even CUT OFF OUR CREW!

ATTN IRAN: CREW’S are meant to be CHOMPED not CHOPPED

– here they can’t even stop us from getting married.

I have to go now and do my patriotic duty and find me some man-snootch at the Miami Airport Bthroom (“C’mon, Mr. Slave!”) so that AhmInDuhJihad doesn’t win.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4_3RUwAJ_MI

-VIcious

Chastitty

2007-10-06T15:37:00.000-04:00

Why Max Vicious is saving himself for marriage.

An in-depth, objective essay on the chaste nature of Max Vicious

Max Vicious is a warm, moist and loving person.

He always has his fellow man (and occasional beast)’s best intentions in mind: even if it hurts.

When a person has sex with another an unbreakable bond is made that forces the signers of this mucusy contract subject to any and all drama that the other decides to dish out.
Not even a deerskin condom can break that bond (Uncle Chuck…)

With that said; Love is always going to be Pain and blue balls are always going to hurt. This essay hopes not to assume that Max Vicious does not “get down”.

Waiting for marriage spares people from risking catching various diseases such as:

1) AIDs

2) DBS (Douche Bag Syndrome)

3) Dick-zits

4) Pregnancy (Namely: stupid, stupid babies)

…. We interrupt this hilarious blog list to announce that Britney Spears is currently cutting her wrists!

ATTENTION ENTIRE WORLD: BRITNEY SPEARS JUST CUT HER WRISTS! Obviously, we should never have taken her children away!

Back to the list:

5) Crazy-bitch-ass Baby-Mamma drama

6) Punishment from Christ in the afterlife

7) SSS- (Slutty Skank Syndrome/Skeezy Skeeve Syndrome)

8) ThThTh (Thlutty Thkank Thyndrome... it's the gay version)

On the other rosy palm: “Getting down” can also have its benefits! By hitting triples, the participating parties lower their risk of encountering:

1) BDBS (Boring Douche Bag Syndrome)

2) Clingy Virgin Disorder (Primary Symptom: Inflamed phone bill)

3) JCLS (Juvenile ‘Cat-Lady’ Syndrome)

4) Sexually-triggered crying fits (brought on by bad sex on wedding night, honeymoon, or after honeymoon.)

…Thought just occurred- Anal sex doesn’t count right? …Oh it does?

…Oh shit, never mind.

Dear readers, please disregard this essay.

Love only, people!

Birth of a Coot

2007-10-05T16:10:00.000-04:00