David: I’m not an advocate for celebrity portraits placed in public areas of the home — like this den, or worse a living room. Why? What exactly does this sort of fandom broadcast? Need one be reminded daily of Barbra Streisand‘s role in the film Nuts? I mean, that’s what would come to mind for me — despite this being a circa, say, ’68 photograph — each time I walked through the room. But wait. I’ve lost the thrust of my commentary. Forget the portrait faux pas, the wayward railroad wall clock, the exiguous, depression-making beige-ness of the room. It’s that “couch” that must be considered — examined in detail, mulled and worried over. What is happening there? The couch appears to be facilitating some sort of irrevocable tear in the time-space continuum. Where one of the homeowners is beginning to disolve into The Void. Soon to be gone — forever. “Papa, papa can you hear me?”
Jimbo: If this really is a porn set and not someone’s actual home then the set decorator needs to be taken out and shot! Charitably overlooking that utter botch of a sofa, it should be obvious to even the most Barbra-besotted queen on the planet that a huge, room-dominating photograph of La Streisand complete with crossed eyes that still manage to follow you everywhere is boner kryptonite. Only a Lesbian could have gotten it this wrong. Honestly, it makes the whole thing look less like Gay porn and more like a cautionary propaganda video from Focus on the Family. “Fuck & Cover” – The ugly truth about what REALLY goes on in Homosexual bedrooms! What your hairdresser won’t tell you!
And don’t even get me started on that plastic wall clock!
File Under:Dens From Hell | Suffocating Sofas
60 Responses to 'The Quantum Physics of Beige and Black'
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David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
Shawn Baker is the Executive-Editor of Nightcharm and hails from New York. He is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Eric B. does not Facebook, Tweet or blog. He uses the internet to cruise for sex, like god intended. He has leopard print in every room of his house, save one. And he does not apologize.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Sean Horlor is happy to no longer be using his judgmental prowess for the forces of darkness. He co-hosts a comedy lifestyle reality TV series called Don't Quit Your Gay Job and runs Up Your Alley.
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Reminds me of the time a guy “treated me” to a few too many Petula Clark songs after sex. That’s one of the drags of being homosexual … it means you often end up in bed with other homosexuals.
I am reminded of the ancient practice of sacred prostitution…except instead of a daeva statue, we have a demure diva photo staring at the worshiping devotee and her enthusiastic priest. Evohe, Varvara, Evohe!
It’s hard to talk about the decor because there’s really almost none. The sparseness seems to bespeak of a lack of an inner life, aside from an adoration of La Streisand, and a fondness for amorphous furniture. Unless that’s a dogpile of guys with a slipcover thrown over them.
The spreading, um, void, is, I think, the result of someone covering the name of the porn studio that made the video from which this picture is taken.
Maybe one of the fellas is Barbra’s brother or cousin or something.
Waitaminnit…something’s plugged in there. Is one of the guys a fuck robot being recharged? Or is that amorphous pile of upholstery plugged in for some reason?
I get the whole “Barbara & bareback on a brown couch” theme. But it’s the clock on the wall which is haunting me. Is it some kind of rebuke to this entire scene?
You know, I never got the Barbra thing (and, yes, it’s “Bar-Bra,” like some feminist manifesto!), and prided myself on the fact that I had never seen one of her films. Then an editor tricked me into going to see one (you don’t want to know) and I was appalled … not so much by the sensational New York singer as by her physical hideousness. (It takes more than four octaves and “People” to detract from those crossed eyes!) Never paid her any more attention. And then I discovered that there are the fans… like the bottom here, who doesn’t even get it up while being plowed… Oh, wait: the top can’t either, without a cock ring! Are Barbra fans really homosexuals, or just wannabe drag queens? Black fabric is so sad.
i’m secondhand cole, banging secondhand hole on second avenuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue…………..
Half a Clock, Half a Cock. I can at least appreciate that balance in this limited universe.
people, people who breed people………………
There really isn’t much to say, except for maybe the couch underneath is
is covered in such a hideous floral pattern that it must be covered with a black sheet. Or maybe this is the Barbra room in the house where one can meditate over the awesomeness of Barbra, and therefore the sparseness because really…is there anything more awesome then Barbra?. And to rear-window…The same thing happened to me only it was Dusty Springfield.
The blanket is clearly a “sex blanket” placed there to keep the impending cum shot off the sofa underneath. The clock and photo of Babs: I’m afraid I have no explanation for either of those. I would let the guy on top do me, but we’d have to do it at my place. I couldn’t concentrate with Barbra looking askance at us while we fucked.
“…Scattered pictures…..and this guy in my behind………”
Well hello gorgeous! Assuming that there is symetry in the room, I’m really wondering who is the second photo on the wall next to Babs. My vote would be Andy Gibb…
…Get ready for me love, ’cause I’m a cummer….
And is it my imagination or does our girl Babs look slightly horrified?
Not so much cuz of the fucking, but cuz of the zero personality of the room: Babs was bought at Spencer Gifts (remember them?), the clock was ordered from Lilian Vernon and the “throw” on the couch is from Joann Fabrics. And I bet they didn’t even bother to hem it. Straight off the bolt.
oy.
And Siam, my bet is Judy Garland, taken soon after she got canned from “Valley of the Dolls.”
don’t tell me not to live
just sit and putter
life’s candy and the sun is a ball of butter (i didn’t write this shit)
don’t bring about a cloud to rain on my parade. don’t tell me not to fly I’ve simply got to,if someone take a spill, it’s me and not you, who told you were alloed to rain oon my parade. (one sec I’m getting to my point)
bla bla bla to this “Ooh love is juicy, juicy you see and I have to have a bite, sir. GET READY FOR ME, LOVE, CAUSE I’M A COMER…
don’t tell me not to live
just sit and putter
life’s candy and the sun is a ball of butter (i didn’t write this shit)
don’t bring about a cloud to rain on my parade. don’t tell me not to fly I’ve simply got to,if someone take a spill, it’s me and not you, who told you were alloed to rain oon my parade. (one sec I’m getting to my point)
bla bla bla to this “Ooh love is juicy, juicy you see and I have to have a bite, sir. GET READY FOR ME, LOVE, CAUSE I’M A COMER…
At first glance, I thought there might have been thought given to the decor. On second glance, I thought “no”.
This looks at though someone purchased a new house after the breakup of a LTR. He spent too much money on the home and lacks funds to decorate. So, he is using what the former partner did not take…remnants of his early gay days. Except for the cum throw. A new life requires a new cum throw.
I suggest removing the wall items and that’s that. Minimalism as an excuse for lack of decor.
The tat on the arm probably translates to “I miss the Ed Sullivan Show”.
I give this a two on the “Sad to Glad” rating system only because it reminds me of how short Babs use to wear her dresses. Eeeew. Where’s that fishy smell coming from?
trollin’ ’round his bony end, i nevah wanted to goooooooooooo…….
jeff, i’m tired of having to explain this to you. if you’re going for Lesbian Minimalist, swap out streisand for ethridge, take the throw off the couch, and put out an open can of tuna as potpourri.
if you’re going for semi-fab, put a shelf of votives under the icon & wallpockets of flowers on each side. enclose the assemblage in a larger, more ornate frame. then spend $4 on upholstery screws & tighten up the slipcover. add large leopard print pillows. paint your old split-level phone table bright shiny red & place on it one oversized thrift store lamp. put out a ball of buttah as potpourri.
until then…………
even my man harry, he’s the guy i adore,
had da noive to tell me he’d been barebacked before.
second-hand cole, pounding second-hand hole……..
Eric….
I’m appalled that you would choose my name as the generic appellation for all things tack-ay on here.
And besides, I’m a top.
Love ya’
Either that couch was slip-covered by The World’s Most Incompetent Homosexual or it’s such an indescribable monstrosity underneath all that fabric that the amorphous black blob we see before us is the best that could be managed. In any case, why the trash heap wasn’t deemed a preferable solution is beyond me. Particularly when what remains is so minimalist: Ecru walls, a plastic wall clock and a framed picture of Barbra Streisand (?!) And it isn’t even a good picture of Streisand (such a thing being relative to begin with). It’s kind of butch and severe… It’s the inner-Streisand, if you will. The positioning of the photograph leads me to believe that we’re in Bottom Boy’s home since it allows him to gaze upward into his Goddess’ eyes while he’s… receiving the sacrament.
It’s like buttah.
BTW, does he get points for the vivid white crown molding? No.
Dear Dallas,
I hear you, brother! These days I try to get to know a guy first before bending him over. My system can’t take the post-coital surprises. At least with the above scenario the diva adoration is out in the open right from the start. A start I wouldn’t personally be able to make, in spite of the bender’s beautiful ass. Not in THAT room. Babs would shrink me for sure.
Here’s an example of an interior that ruined the sex mid-stride:
I’m with this guy, he’s deaf, and (maybe he thought “this is something hearing people are into”) he turns on the TV, sound and all. We’re getting pretty passionate when the focus of the program (some news magazine) turns to the Holocaust. The narration is depressing enough, but then I look up and see a pile of thin corpses. I had to stop of course, and it took me a while before I could explain what happened.
I suppose Barbra would approve?
“In space no one can hear you scream”©
“It cost me alot but there’s one thing that I’ve got, it’s my maaaa-aaannnn…”
who said i was being generic, jeff?
of course you’re a top, hon. *wink*
Eric, honey….your wit is so fine, so dry….you must live in the desert like I do.
[activating homo homing device in 3....2......1....]
call it a homing device if you want, we all know it’s at home in your kiester.
“Pulses racing , darling
How grand we are
Little by little we meet in the middle
Theres danger in the dark
(it oughta be illegal)”
Forgive me please but Jesus Christ, I HAD to do this.
Oh Jesus! I had to.
So…cheap 50/50 polycotton sheet as a slipcover, black-and-white Barbra looking on sternly yet wistfully through raccoon-like eyeliner, and no doubt, a shoddy iPod clone plugged into the wall and blaring “Evergreen”. The sad plastic “country charm” clock looks exactly like the one where I used to work at a hated job. Talk about boner-killing. Obviously the gods think so too, or they wouldn’t be trying to drag the entire scene out of our realm and off to some torturous netherworld via the enormous black hole at the bottom of the picture.
This is from a HDK porn, Hung House Husbands.
With a cast like that they didn’t feel they needed decent set dressing.
i did a search, and the other side of the room is no better.
that black tarp mess is to hide the rest of the abu ghraib pyramid from the blabbermouths in the baghdad press corps. the clock is set to green zone time [[greenwich MEAN time + 5 hours] and la streisand is contemplating why she missed being on the best dressed list again. thank god there are a few iraqis who love her. special points for the crown molding in one of saddam’s former palaces. where are the requisite comments of ‘I’D do him’?
Hey, a quick question….I wonder which electronic device that is plugged into the wall socket. Or do I want to know…..
for you gluttons for punishment, here is the link to the rest of the room. http://www.hunghousehusbands.com/photo.php?PID=05
the companion photo is, i believe, gene simmons???(actress not rock god) but i could be wrong.
if this weren’t low budget porn i’d think this was low budget art, with some theme of the bottom sucking all life and color out of the room. first the big black hole below his hands and knees; then all color from babs. at this very instant, the process has begun on the top. ultimately, it will drain the walls and surrounding parts of the room, as well and just fade to black — unfortunately, we got here too soon.
it leads to the portrait. every half hour she uncrosses her eyes and every hour she chimes ‘hello, gorgeous.’
*deep breath*
Leave Barbra ALONE.
*sobbing*
Just… just leave her alone…
This is functional boner-killing “edging” decor. Almost over the brink, a single 45 degree glance subdues any urge to ejaculate.
Didn’t know Robert Kelker Kelly liked Babs…..
Didn’t know Robert Kelker Kelly was such a fan of Babs….
Designers take note!!!! Today I saw a new clock on the market. It is an Elvis clock of the coo-koo design. A sight to behold. I can’t wait until the right room comes along.
my elvis clock chimes ‘love me tender’ unless you take that battery out. my last supper clock chimes ‘ode to joy’ unless you take that battery out. my felix the cat clock doesn’t do a damn thing but wag its tail and move its eyes. i was hoping that the marilyn clock would dispense phenobarbitol on the hour, but noooooooooooo.
Splayed upon the amorphous blob couch on all fours, eyes averted, beneath the watchful gaze of She-By-Whose-Grace-and-Checkbook-I-Have-Been-Bought-and-Paid-For, fucked in the ass by a robot who plugs in so the batteries will never wear out, as the plastic pseudo-historical clock tick tick ticks away to eternity.
It’s obviously a photocollage by James Brolin entitled “My Life.”
……….then where’s his award for best supported actor?
Hmmm… let me borrow that top ?
SaintCahier…..nice “Kelly” reference! Kudos!
I just checked what Cubbie posted and DARN! This really is from a porn video. And based on the stills, I’d say the title “Hung House Husbands” is being generous.
(And the decor meltdown becomes even more apparent in other scenes….)
I usually agree with minimalism, but this makes me yearn for Victorian clutter.
And don’t even get me started on that plastic wall clock!
Dash, So I also did some “research”, and the 2nd framed pic is Liz Taylor (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof era). You may still be right, though, cuz it looks like there’s a third pic… So Judy in the grave is probably thinking “So what am I- Chopped Livva?!”
So 48 responses and still growing- Time for someone to pick a fight: What’s with the lesbian bashing? There’s gotta be one top posting here who’s got a role model…..
the 3rd picture is a bad oil painting.
When Elsie de Wolf arrived in Athens she took one look at the Parthenon and cried out “Oh look, it’s beige. MY color!”
I have seen this porn. The whole wall behind the sofa is nothing but Ghettofagulous. I think Judy Garland is on the wall too….
Yes. I’m off my meds. So, is it ME or is this room really bad? I’m shaking now so someone tell me quickly. I’m thinking there’s a B&W of Mel Torme to the left of Babs. He makes me ‘nervous’ if you know what I mean.
Does it creep you out that you can’t tell what time it is unless you use their ‘members’ for the hands of a human clock in which case it is about 10 ’til seven. Is that a gnat on the wall? I like being french the best don’t you? Well, what are you looking at? That smell, where is it coming from? Sweet lemons I think. I must go check on the cat….
I’ve been thinking about this all night. That Barbra photograph just doesn’t make sense. Those guys look way too young to even know who she is. And given the overall absence of furnishings and decor (not even a coffee table!), I am forced to conclude that this is some sort of a communist sleeper cell set up to entrap homosexuals at the Highest Levels of the United States Department of Agriculture!! (Maybe none of you recognized Undersecretary for Sugar Beets Matthew L. Ashton sprawled there on the amorphous sofa, BUT I DID.)
Unfortunately, this communist sleeper cell seems to have overslept by about thirty years, thus being unaware that Barbra Streisand is no longer the goddess of the inverts that she once was, and that… uh… communism kind of went away, too.
Sweet Jesus, somebody send some Xanax to Southern California. Pronto!
Somebody help me, please ….. I’m dying …. after so many years I’m
enjoying an orgasm, finally ….
Papa, can you feel me..?
ROOM NEEDS A SOLO FLEX PUSHED
INTO THE CORNER W/ A MINNESOTA VIKINGS WINTER COAT HANGING OFF IT, BUT THAT WOULD MAKE THE ROOM FLAWLESS! GO VIKINGS!!!!!
hot!