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Vladdie and The Donald: A fine bromance

As a writer of homoerotic fiction, I consider myself a collector and connoisseur of male/male romances. I began with the ancient Greeks, who practically invented homoerotic relationships – all those youths beloved by Apollo, whose depiction reached an apotheosis in the paintings of neoclassical Paris (see Abigail Solomon-Godeau’s provocative book “Male Trouble”); and the relationships of Alexander the Great with his right-hand man, Hephaestion, and eunuch Bagoas, portrayed so movingly in Mary Renault’s “Fire From Heaven” and “The Persian Boy,” respectively.

Then there’s Marguerite Yourcenar’s “Memoirs of Hadrian,” a model for all aspiring historical fiction writers, which tells the story of the titular Greek-loving Roman emperor and his love for the tragic Greek youth Antinous.

Moving on to our own (mostly) gay-friendly, postfeminist time, there’s Gus Van Sant’s ingenious “My Own Private Idaho,” based on “Henry IV,” and Annie Proulx’s hauntingly spare novella “Brokeback Mountain,” made into an equally worthy film by Ang Lee. ...

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The greatest

When you title a blog post, you’re supposed to make it as specific as possible – unlike necessarily a print headline – to draw attention to it. But I figure few titles are more intriguing than “the greatest.” Who is “the greatest”? The title is associated with Muhammad Ali, but really fans in every sport like to argue over who is the GOAT (greatest of all time) in their discipline.

You could say Michael Phelps is the greatest swimmer of all time and the greatest Olympian of all time with 28 medals, 23 gold – six of them (five gold, one silver) in Rio alone. You could say the New York Yankees are the greatest baseball team of all time with 18 division titles, 40 American League pennants and 27 World Series titles. Both Phelps and the Yankees are so far ahead of their competitors that it’s hard to imagine anyone catching up. ...

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Phelpte draws to a close at the Rio Games

You take the true measure of yourself in a rival, Aristophanes  said. If that’s the case, then Ryan Lochte must be the most self-aware man in the world.

For years, he’s been card partners, roommates, friends and, yes, rivals, with the man who owns 22 gold medals – Michael Phelps.

Last night, Lochte finished fifth in the 200 IM to Phelps’ first. I won’t say I’m not disappointed. I would’ve liked to see them finish 1-2, or better, for Lochte to have best him. But it is perhaps fatuous as a fan to be disappointed. Who is more disappointed than the losing athlete? Indeed, disappointment dripped from Lochte like so many beads of water in his nonetheless gracious post-race interview. ...

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Seems like old times with Phelpte

Michael Phelps won his 21st gold medal and the U.S. men’s swimming team took its fourth consecutive gold in the 4-x-200 meter relay Tuesday in Rio de Janeiro. In all four relays, the common denominator was Phelps and longtime teammate and rival Ryan Lochte. He and Phelps swam the third and anchor legs respectively. They are now the grand old men of swimming at 32 and 31. Seems like only yesterday they were teenagers crowned in laurel and giggling on the podium in Athens.

Phelps, who’s had his share of problems with alcohol, has a newfound maturity with fiancée Nicole Johnson and baby Boomer (so adorable). Some things, however, never change. Lochte, noted for his, shall we say, striking sartorial choices, dyed his hair ice-blue for the Rio Games. Instead it looks platinum.

Why do thoroughly gorgeous people tamper with Greco-Roman beauty?

 

 

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