I’m sure that when gay brothers Sam and Dan began The Amazing Race they didn’t expect their penises would cause the blogsphere to twitter with furvor. But they did and it has, though not for the reason you may think. There was no uncensored broadcast dick slippage like that of a Survivor contest’s member briefly flopping about during a challenge a while back. This time, the fury that set keyboards on fire is CBS’s censoring of Sam and Dan’s nether regions and why it was necessary.

While no official word from CBS has come on the subject, speculation abounds from wardrobe malfunction to erections to just because they are gay men playing in the mud with other men. The only thing that is clear is that the censoring has caused more of a fuss than had the show been left uncensored.

TAR’s Dan was in underwear and could possible have had a peek-a-boo moment, but what was wrong with Sam? Sam, who was wearing shorts, also had his crotch censored and had he not been blurred, this probably would’ve been a non-issue. It does make one wonder what the real problem was as there have been some questionable moments during the recent season of CBS’s Survivor where underwear-clad schemer Russell’s silhouette of his manhood has been clearly visible in several episodes.

I took a second look at the glimpses that weren’t censored, the guys movement and stance in the mud and how things were hanging (err… pointing). That combinded with Sam’s comment about “the hot Estonian guys” leads me to believe that CBS was running terrified that people would assume that in some shots the guys had erections. Whether they did or not no longer seems to be the issue as it has led to a larger concern… would CBS have been as quick to blur if the guys were straight?

Update 12/08/09 – Sam explains in interview with AfterElton: “Here’s the deal. Cheyne had black boxers on so you couldn’t see everything for him. Dan had lighter-colored boxers on, I had paper-thin little shorts on, and so you could just see too much. Apparently, the outline was too obvious, so they had to blur everything. No, we were not getting excited by the Estonian hotties, despite what everyone else seems to think. There’s not too much that’s erotic about playing volleyball with your brother in a little town in Estonia.”

On it being a gay issue on CBS’ part, Dan only said, “Trust me, that was my theory. But it happened and it was really funny. We were watching with our dad when that episode came on, and he was just like, ‘What’s going on?’”

Hmm…

I stumbled on this photo while browsing some blogs the other day and I am in love. Could there be a more perfect man? If there is, I have not met him! I have no idea who he is but am dying to know. So I put it to you… can you identify this mystery man who has fallen out of the sky and stolen my heart? I’m hearing Celine Dion singing right now… “I’m waiting here for my prince to come…”

Okay, well now in exactly one month I will be 40. I have been ignoring it. I have been dreading it. Make it go away. Freeze time. Freeze me. As much as I was looking forward to 30, I am not looking forward to 40. Will I be one of those assholes who perpetually calls themselves 39 after they hit 40?

My friends tell me that 40 is the new 30 and that life doesn’t begin until 40. I know I don’t feel 40 or look like it according to some people who are shocked I was THAT old, thinking I was mid 30s – YEAH! With hot to trot John Barrowman and Hugh Jackman, who just turned 40, as examples of what the face (and body) of 40 looks like, bring it! Woof!

It was twilight and I was alone in the lower portion of the school playground. Darkness was fast descending but the faint outlines of trees and the stairs to the upper playground and brick wall by the alley were clearly visible. I walked with trepidation up the wide steps to the upper playground were softball games I was excluded from would give the other boys great joy during the daylight. I whispered to myself, Careful… they’ll see.

But the playground was deserted except for the oaks that towered over it. I made my way to the wall and looked up over it into the alley to see what was happening, and it too was deserted except for a lonely black car. Yet the essence of all the children playing and people passing who long since made their ways home were felt as clearly as if they were still their. As the blue light melted into blackness I moved to the center of the playground and spun around feeling the freeness and openess of it all. I grasped my open shirt collar and whispered to myself Should I? Do you think I should? Will they see? I ripped off my shirt and now I was no longer a boy, but a man free and carefree. I raised my arms in victory and spun round and round.

How interesting to dream of a place that was hell for me 20 years ago. I still see it but the playground surrounding the school is now a parking lot. The massive trees whose leaves I would watch blowing in the breeze and daydream about from the upper story classrooms are long gone, as are the brick wall and steps. The segregated playground of a Catholic school in 1980 was not a fun place for an overweight gay boy just beginning to realize he no longer fits in. He can’t go into the girls playground because well, he isn’t a girl, and yet the boys don’t embrace him in theirs — where it’s all rough-housing and team sports — because he is the “odd boy.” Cast aside — more accurately, ignored — I took up residence by the brick wall overlooking the alley.

I would look on as the boys pulled off their ties and shirts to organize themselves into softball games. One of the boys once approached me, raising my hopes that maybe he’s coming over to ask me to be on his team? Instead, and to my horror, he showed me a picture of a naked woman as he then ran back to his teammates laughing. Let down and not sure what just happened, I decided to climb up and hang over the wall. Perhaps something more interesting could be happening outside the proverbial convent walls — something that could rescue me from this. I looked up and down, but it was deserted.

Still continuing to look at nothing in particular, I would imagine what could be happening or what may have happened in the past. People walking their dogs…. cars driving by… friends walking and talking together. Anything would be better than turning around and watching them all yelling, laughing and having fun. Soon someone came along. It was a college kid who was smoking. As he passed I realized he was smoking pot and he offered me a drag. Terrified, I shook my head NO and quickly turned back around to face the softball game only to find I had been joined by two other boys, also odd outcasts. The three of us would spend future recesses playing make believe games for all we had was fantasy to get us through the reality that we were not accepted because we were different.

Thanksgiving is a great holiday. It’s one day a year you forget about the fat, the carbs, The Zone, the weights, the cardio or whatever it is you do to keep your manly physique shapely and eat what you want when you want. You spend the day with family and friends and for a few hours all is right and well with the world. But for the gay people that aren’t out to their families, this day of indulgence of food and family can turn into a day from hell. In my family my brother cooks and my mom helps him. I set the table and decorate the dining room with the help of my nieces and we all generally have a great time.

But when it comes time for the actual meal, one hellish scenario inevitably plays out as the dinner conversation comes around to who is getting married, who isn’t and who is seeing who. The girls begin discussing a gay friend or two as your far right, conservative, republican brother, who is 15 years older than you, begins to writhe in his chair at the head of the table. All eyes turn to you as his bossy wife blurts out your unattached status.

She insists you should be married, or at least have a girl friend and announces in an over joyous manner, “I know just the right girl!” You suddenly wish you’d sink into the floor.

The niece in college points out that the girl is so prissy, “What would he want with her?”

To which the sister-in-law replies, “Look at this place! What do you think he is? They’d be perfect for each other.”

The older, married niece catches your gaze and puts her mother in her place by yelling, “Leave him alone!” with a wink to you and so the conversation quickly shifts and the bomb that could cause World War III is diffused once again, at least until Christmas. And all you can think is, “Christ, where’s dessert?”