What Makes an Athlete Straight or Gay?

What makes us assume a man hasn't had sex with other men in his lifetime?

Because he says so? Because he's a good husband? A great father? A right-wing politician. A rugged action hero? A man with the title of minister, priest, pope? A womanizer? A ladies man? A man who hates fags? A soldier? A great athlete?

We all know better by now, right?

We all know that any man can say one thing, but that doesn't necessarily tell the whole story, right?

Never cheated on my wife. Never taken steroids. Never been homosexual. Never done this, never done that, never done what you don't want me to do. I'm a man of my word, take my word for it!

We all know better by now, right?

And we can add pro athletes to the list of men who are capable of fucking around with other men, right?

This isn't about naming names, coming out or values. This is about a 21st century reality shift, based on everything we saw men do in the last century. Men lie. Men get horny. Men surprise themselves.

So what makes a man a fag? A whole lifetime of sucking cock? A queeny disposition? A lover? A rumor? A gay bumper sticker?

Many, if not most men, in their lifetime, have had some kind of s-e-x-u-a-l relations with another man, no matter what they call themselves and what they claim to be. They've been there. Men lie. Men get horny. Men surprise themselves.

And since we know this, can we all just get along, and lighten up on the men who choose to call themselves gay and admit to sucking cock full-time? After all, without them, how would the men who call themselves straight get a decent blow job?

Dog Years

In a few months, my dog Boomer will be twelve years-old. Normally, I would have already made the conversion in my brain. By now, I'd be telling people: “he's almost twelve,” or, “going on twelve.”

It's what I've done the past twelve years. It's what I do with myself: round up my age. A month or two before turning 48, I'm already forgetting 47 and thinking, I'm 48.

Only now, with Boomer, I've decided he's still eleven. Even though April of 2010 is around the corner, I'm not rounding up his age. Boomer's holding at eleven. I'm gonna let eleven marinate, hold its own, stick around, enjoy the view. No rush to add another candle. Boomer's eleven years-old.

"Is there such a thing as ant years? Buffalo years? Dinosaur years? Cat years?"

I don't believe in “dog years,” the practice of calculating a canine's life into some human equivalent. As in: Boomer is eleven multiplied by seven in “human years.”

That's looking at another animal's life on human terms. Is there such a thing as ant years? Buffalo years? Dinosaur years? Cat years? Firefly years? No, there's just time, which passes on its own no matter who's in the room.

So Boomer is not twelve and he's definitely not seven times eleven or twelve. Boomer's the only unconditional love I've ever known. For any time during all my time here.

The other day, Boomer and I saw a friends of ours, Ginger. She's an old lady now. Ginger's fourteen. She's still looking good, same color as Boomer, similar breed. Her owner told me Ginger can't climb stairs anymore, but other than that, she's doing quite well.

“You see that, Boomer? You hear that?” I say to my dog, trying to inspire and challenge him. “Ginger's fourteen. You're only eleven.”

It's important that he knows we've got a long way to go.

Note 2 Self: You need to publish a whole lot more of When In Doubt, Pet the Dog, a periodic column or feature or journal or blog thingy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Dear Magic Johnson, Thanks for Saving My Life

In February, 2009, Cookie Johnson, wife of Earvin "Magic" Johnson, was among the honorees at Heroes in the Struggle, an event held by the Black AIDS Institute (and for which I was a contributing writer).

That night, I met Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, briefly shared my HIV story and personally thanked them for helping to save my life. Below is another expression of my gratitude.

Dear Magic and Cookie Johnson,

Thank you for giving me a life. I just had my 48th birthday in January 2010, which is nothing short of a miracle. I'm 48 years old! How old am I? I'm 48, baby! I've lived 48 whole years!

It may not sound like much, but to me, it's the greatest, most spectacular, off-the-hook dream come true (I never dreamed would come true). I have a life! I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.

AIDS and Common Sense

What the world needs now is a new and healthy perspective on HIV/AIDS.

Most people appear clueless when it comes to preventing themselves from acquiring HIV. All they know is, AIDS = bad, so stay away from the AIDS Monster, including anyone who might have HIV.

Online personal ads reveal the truth: People who are HIV-negative consider themselves “clean” and “disease-free” and they seek others who are also “clean” and “disease-free.” Many men now post their HIV-negative status along with their test date. HIV-negative as of 11/09. UB2.

Conversely, ads by people who are HIV-positive are often couch in wording that feels like an asterisk, an apology or self-defense. Thing is, I'm HIV-positive. If you can handle that, get in touch.

Now presenting the modern-day, 21st-century reality:

A person who is HIV-negative can have a lifetime of great sexual relationships with persons who are HIV-positive without acquiring HIV.

A person who is HIV-positive can have a lifetime of great sexual relationships with persons who are HIV-negative without transmitting the virus.

If you are educated, compassionate, open minded and open-hearted, there is no need to classify yourself as “clean” and “disease-free.” Only the ignorant, fearful and cold-hearted need use such words.

If you are not educated about HIV, google it, and consider what reputable health sites like the CDC have to say. And remember, calling yourself “clean” and avoiding others who are not “disease-free” in no way keeps you safe. Doing that is simply not taking full responsibility for your own health. Only safe sex with everyone, regardless of their HIV status, keeps you safe.

To get with me, a guy must be smart about HIV.

Regardless of his status, he's gotta understand that I'm a good man with or without HIV. Regardless of his status, he must be educated enough about HIV to know he can be intimate with a fun, sexy, poz stud like me and not acquire the virus. Regardless of his status, it's that knowledge that makes him sexy to me. Regardless of his status, it what's makes him worthy of being in my life.

Parents, Do Your Chores!

I'm guessing a study would show: kids who are put on punishment for bad behavior are less likely to end up behind bars. That's because thinking twice is the kind of learned behavior best embedded in childhood.

I'm also guessing a study would show: kids who have chores are more likely to have better work habits--as well as better housekeeping habits--as adults. And they make better roommates in college!

Lastly, I'm guessing a study would show: kids who do charity work are more likely to be giving, compassionate adults. And they make better spouses! Need further evidence? Check out the Best Reality Show About Raising Kids.

Remembering Emancipation Day II

"The Africans who were kidnapped from their villages, marched across Africa, ferried across the sea, unloaded off the ships and sold into a life of slavery in America, those Africans are all dead; but they're descendants are now in good hands, and life is only going to get better from here to eternity."

—from Africans In America In Good Hands Now, originally published on this blog on President Obama's inauguration day, 1/20/2009.

One Pissant Little Photo

For 21 years, Marcus Coleman has fantasized about a lifelong romance with a handsome college quarterback he once saw in a photograph.

Thanks to the Internet, Marcus discovers the former quarterback’s whereabouts.

Thanks to a shot of tequila, Marcus dials the former quarterback’s number.

Thanks to a curious twist of fate, the former quarterback answers the phone with: “Marcus, when you coming home?”

How big a deal can one pissant little photo turn out to be?

Big enough to take you on a cool and dreamy trip through the galaxies to bear witness to the birth of a whole new super universe and worldwide generation of celestial bodies that will rock the web of the world as we know it. Huh?

Your ticket is your imagination.

Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd

From the Sugar Bowl to the Super Bowl, a story of love, football and some very potent daydreams.

A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Romance

Available wherever books are sold

More about Walt Loves the Bearcat
Get Walt Loves the Bearcat at Amazon.com

So You Think You Can Trikke

In this edition of Trikke Randy: Gear up for winter trikking; advice to wannabe trikkers; and Dealer or No Dealer? A frank look at Trikke's new deal that some are calling a raw deal.

Winter Gear Up

How do you keep your passion for trikking alive in the winter without freezing your ass off? Cold gear, made by companies such as Under Armor, Nike, or my personal favorite, C9 by Champion (exclusively at Target). Whomever the maker, the formula is the same: light, comfortable fabric that keeps you warm via your body heat and dry via moisture-wicking technology.

These same companies, and others, have similar lines of year-round athletic wear for males and females, minus the cold gear but with the moisture-wicking technology, usually labeled as some literal or figurative mutation of DRY-MORE. Good stuff for the avid trikker in any season. A layer or two of these modern-day wonders and Trikke Randy is good to go.

For those brutal days when it's practically freezing--whatever freezing means--try a cold gear, moisture-wicking hood for the noggin. When you return home, pull it off and see how wet the hood has become, while your head is relatively dry. This is the kind of stuff that keeps the Winter Cold Monster away. To save your digits, get your hands on some cold gear gloves.

Yes you can Trikke and survive this winter. And if it's snowing outside, gear up and go Trikke Skkiing!

So You Think You Can Trikke

Trikkers see them all the time: curious people who are a little more than curious about this curious-looking scooter they've seen on TV. It looks like fun. How much are those? Is it easy to ride? A good workout? Questions. Questions. Questions.

The Trikke infomercials aren't enough to fully educate the public. This is still like biking around the world a few years after someone invented the bike. The Trikke is something so new and unique, it's best explained in person. But not while Trikke Randy is trikking! lol

If it looks to you like something that's fun and you can see yourself doing, follow the light. How do you follow the light? That is the burning question both inside and outside Trikkeland. Do you make the leap over a toll-free phone number? Find a local dealer, if you're even aware of their existence? Or do you buy a Trikke at a discount superstore?

The superstore option has some local Trikke dealers calling foul, claiming undercut pricing means a raw deal for local dealers. The Powers that Be of Trikkeland are reported to be working on a solution so "we can all get along," but what's a perspective buyer to do?

It's time to play ... DEALER or NO DEALER ...

Less than one year ago, I bought my Trikke after seeing bits of one infomercial. It was love at first sight for the joyride of the 21st century. However, were it not for my local Trikke dealer, my love affair might be over already. SouthBay Trikke has rescued me and my Trikke on more than one occasion.

In addition to some minor repairs, my beloved Trikke broke apart twice, rendering it unusable. Twice. I'm not one who can imagine, a) shipping such a bulky item anywhere for repair, or, b) trying to resolve a broken Trikke at a discount superstore. Twice. Having a local Trikke dealer--and a great one in SouthBay Trikke--saved my Trikke, and thus, my passion for trikking. Twice.

Based on my experience, the best way to buy a Trikke is through a local dealer, if you're fortunate enough to have one in your area. Why? A local dealer can better answer questions, such as, which one should I get? Is it sturdy enough for my size? What about repairs and maintenance?

Perhaps best of all, you can test-drive Trikkes and learn how to ride at a local dealer.

But wait .... there's even more benefits!

Chances are, after you fall in love with your Trikke, you're gonna wanna treat it like your car. You'll want a good mechanic, the kind you get at a place that specializes in your dream machine.

You'll want a place where people know your product inside and out, a place where people have assembled, ridden and repaired your product, a place where you're always dealing with the same people, not a random stream of untrained employees, a place that loves your Trikke as much as you do and puts on fun events, like, the Best Halloween Trikke Ride Ever!

If you choose DEALER, you get all that.

The good news: even if you choose NO DEALER and buy a Trikke, you'll probably want to take it to a local Trikke dealership for repairs and accessories. You'll also probably refer your curious friends to said local dealer. Everybody wins!

Time for Trikke Randy to don his cold gear and go trikking. For further questions, deal with your local Trikke dealer! Deal?

Photos by Jeri Thompson

Black Boy Bowled Over by Bowl Season

It wouldn't be college football bowl season on the Blocks without a nostalgic look back at a certain black college cheerleader who cheered his heart out for both USC and UCLA in three bowl games in the early 1980s. Ah, those college daze.

One month into his freshman year, the young black boy became a USC yell leader. Some time later, he would be a USC Yell Leader with a Love Hangover at the Fiesta Bowl.

Then the young man had the audacity to transfer to their crosstown rival. Yep, the Bruins. Find out why, and see how he, who is me, became a UCLA Cheerleader Sacked by the Rose Bowl. It's college bowling like you never imagined, now and forever on Randy Boyd's Blocks.

I Love the O-Os!

The envelope please ...

And the Randy Boyd's Blocks Award for Best Thing to Happen in the O-Os, also know as the first decade of the 21st century--because of all the O's in all the years, duh!--goes to ...

No, not digital cell phones and all their bells and whistles, like cameras, texting and music players, although all those things are pretty cool to have on a mobile phone, which in the last decade, especially after 9/11, became as common on the planet as humans themselves.

No, not digital cameras, which revolutionized the way we take, store and share pictures, or MP3 players, which revolutionized the way we listen to, buy and share music, although who isn't thankful those gadgets were finally ready for mass consumption in the decade just ended?

No, not social networking sites like myspace and Facebook. Not YouTube, which debuted midway through the decade and changed EVERYTHING.

No, not digital video recorders, although DVRs forever altered the way humans watched television, turned a brand name, Tivo, into a verb--I Tivo'ed it!--and perhaps ranks as humankind's finest moment in time.

No, not flat screen TVs, which forever changed the space in our homes, and spared the world a whole lot of backaches.

No, not the Trikke, joyride of the 21st century, although the three-wheeled, newfangled "bike" is still in the running for Best Invention Since the Wheel.

No, not the existence of gay TV networks or the first viable woman candidate for presidency of the United States--Mrs. Clinton, not Mrs. Palin--or even the election of the first black man of said United States.

That's right, the Best Thing to Happen in the O-Os, also know as the first decade of the 21st century, is not President Obama or any of the decade's great gadgets, like the iPod and the iPhone.

The Award goes to ... Science, who made it possible for AIDS to become a manageable disease.

Twenty-five years ago, children were barred from schools for being the innocent victims of tainted blood transfusions. Politicians were lining up ballad measures to quarantine people. America and the world was hysterical about AIDS. The life expectancy for anyone living with the virus, including myself, was 12-18 months.

The late 1990s saw the first breakthrough medications. The last decade saw Science get the upper hand on HIV and the apocalyptic plague of the latter part of the 20th century.

That is why the Randy Boyd's Blocks Award for Best Thing to Happen in the O-Os goes to Science, for its heroic efforts with HIV/AIDS.

Thank you, Science. Because of you, I've lived long enough to Trikke while listening to my iPod and Tivo President Barack Obama anytime I want. Makes me eager to see what's ahead in the next decade.

Perhaps the world mobilizing to save the millions all over the planet who are infected with HIV without the benefits of modern medicine? Perhaps America mobilizing to stop the new AIDS epidemic among the young within its own borders? Perhaps the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS finally disappearing?

We can dream, can't we?